Discovery
by Aspiring Empath
Summary: Alice never had the vision. The Cullens never returned. Meet Becca. She's determined to uncover the secret of her grandma's journal, even if it meets looking for trouble. Nominated for Twilight & Indie Twific Awards! Most Orignal Plot, Best AU, Best OC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Twilight owns my soul. Me, I'm just the sad girl who owns this plotline.

Prologue

* * *

I stood in the rain watching the casket slowly lower into the ground. People around me sobbed and dabbed at their faces with handkerchiefs. I just stood there, completely devoid of emotion, unable to comprehend what was happening. It couldn't be happening. Why was she gone? I couldn't fathom a world without her.

I heard my grandfather sob beside me. The sound was so full of despair, so much fear and loneliness; it shook me to the core. I looked over to see my father clutching to him like a life-line. It seemed like everyone was falling a part at the seams without her here to fix it. But not me. I didn't cry. She would have felt so bad if she'd known there were so many people crying over her. She needed someone strong. I was strong.

It had been two days since my family met with her lawyer to go over the will. Of course, she left most of her belongings to my grandpa, and a few heirlooms were entrusted to my father and mother. Sitting there in a hard-backed wooden chair, I twiddled my thumbs and stared at a point where the tacky wallpaper and a cracked ceiling panel met while they quietly wiped away tears after each item was read aloud. It's not that I didn't care about what was going on. My bored expression most likely impressed no one, but I was shocked and unbelievably saddened by her death. I just dealt with it differently than others.

I hadn't expected to receive anything from her. Truly, I hadn't. I mean, something might have eventually reached me after my parents passed it down, but receive something directly when she possessed so few materials items? I wasn't holding my breath. So, of course I was shocked when the lawyer pulled out thick, paper-wrapped package from a yellow envelope. Another small enveloped was pulled out with my named carefully scrawled across the middle.

On the drive back to my grandpa's house, where we were staying until the funeral was over, I had carefully opened the letter, not wanting to lose any bit of her that she might have put into it. Unfolding it, I was disappointed by its length. I had hoped she would have written something long and explanatory to me, some great novel about her life that would make her passing just a little easier.

I skimmed it and was even more disappointed. Obviously, she'd been in the depths of her sickness when she had written it. The letter read:

_Dear Becca,_

_Of course you're reading this because I'm gone. I know you're not crying but please, don't be sad. Death has never been a fear of mine. I've been waiting for it for a very long time. What I have given to you, you must promise not to show to anyone else. Inside is something even your grandfather doesn't fully understand, and that is saying something since he knows me so well. _

_I've lived a long life (though it should have been infinitely longer) and sharing this with you isn't the wisest thing, but I know that somehow you'll understand it. You're so much like I was when I was younger. Just promise me, Becca, whatever you may want to do, don't go looking for trouble. With your genes, it's bound to come running to you._

_I love you darling. My only regret is that I wasn't able to tell you everything. I just hope that you'll understand someday._

_Grandma._

I read it over and over again. What had she meant by her life 'should have been infinitely longer?' What wasn't she able to tell me? What trouble? I didn't understand.

That had been two days ago. Now, as the rain fell from the perpetually overcast sky, and the crowds walked by one last time to throw a rose or two into her grave, all I could think about was going home to open that package. I needed to know the secret that Grandma had been hiding. I itched to discover some knowledge that only she and I would share. In my eyes, that would bring us closer together, even if it was too late.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I made a few changes to this. Enoy and please REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not, nor will I ever, own Twilight. It's a sad reality, my friends, but I'm quite used to it.

Chapter 1: Beginnings

* * *

There are so many things I remember about my grandma. She may have been over eighty, but there was something about her, something in the way she smiled or laughed that proved to me that she'd always stay young. Of course, that's not the only thing I remember about her.

She was always calm and reserved—'an attribute of maturity' she said. She moved slowly—albeit not always gracefully—like she was treading around some sleeping monster of some kind, cautious not to wake it up. She seemed to have a way of calming my grandpa when he got angry, which he was known to do. Even some of the smallest things would make his temper flare, and all Grandma had to do was place a hand on his arm or speak soothing words, and his body would relax and his eyes would lose their fierce look.

She wasn't afraid of the dark—a fear I'm still troubled with to this day. When I was younger, staying at her house for the night was a scary experience. The wind would blow and tree branches would scratch the side of the house. I would lay awake, scared out of my mind, until she came in. Telling me stories of monsters and old tribal legends and how they weren't so scary after all put my young mind to rest.

I remembered little things, like how she would walk out of the room when my mother or I would watch The Notebook. It was her least favorite movie, and she criticized it harshly for its 'inability to portray a realistic relationship between two people.' She would state how unrealistically the characters behaved in a situation like that, and then walk away to do the laundry or dishes or water the plants, or some such chore that could've waited.

Sometimes when I was with her and she wasn't paying attention, she'd rub at a small scar on her hand with a faraway look in her eyes. I remember sitting at her small kitchen table, staring at her as she rubbed it methodically back and forth. I reached out and grabbed her hand, her startled look showing me her thoughts hadn't been confined to that kitchen but drifting to someplace else entirely. I stroked the scar much like she had—it was so cool to the touch—and asked how she'd gotten it. She paused for a long time before replying that something had bitten her a long time ago. The pained look on her face as she told me told me was enough. I let the subject drop and never brought it up again.

One thing that I'd known about my grandma that seemed apparent—if only to me, because no one ever mentioned it—was the fact that she didn't love my grandpa. Oh, sure, she loved Grandpa Jacob as a companion—someone to share her life with—but not as a soul mate or true love or however you describe it. I would look at her and wonder how she could have so much love in her eyes but still have some part of her holding back. It was like she didn't have that part of her heart to give. It belonged to someone else, and she only settled for the next best thing. I dreamt of some wonderful forbidden romance she had early in life where someone ran off with her heart. Those were always my suspicions, though they were never confirmed. Still, Grandpa was always satisfied. They'd been happily married for almost sixty years.

* * *

"That's everything then," my mom stated, setting a box down in the middle of the room and wiping her forehead.

"Don't give up on me now, Maura. We still need to put everything away," my dad joked, setting a lamp on the floor.

I ignored both of them. They didn't seem aware that grandma had only died a week ago. Her funeral had only been three days ago for goodness sake. I wandered to the room that was destined to be mine. The plain white walls would have to go, but the room was big enough and had enough windows to let some light in. _'Promising.'_ The only piece of furniture in the room so far was my bed which sat lonely and bare against the far wall. I crossed my arms and sighed, thinking about how we came to be in this small town once again.

After my grandma…died—God, it was still too hard to say, even to myself—my father decided we should go back to Forks, if not the reservation, to look after Grandpa Jacob. He was already eighty and it wasn't easy for him without Grandma. After only a week of staying with him, my dad found a house close by thanks to an old friend in the real-estate business.

So, here I was. Stuck in the little town where I was born and desperate to be anywhere else. So much for getting away like my father had wanted to.

When he was a teenager, he had grown restless on the reservation. The first chance he had, he was out of there, starting a new life on his own. He met my mom in the library where she was helping her aunt for the summer. They say the rest was history. They got married, and I was born a suspicious seven months later.

For the longest time, we lived in the rainy little town of Forks. I was close to my grandma at the time, and she'd spoil me in any way a grandmother possibly could. When I was ten, my dad got a job offer in Colorado, and I wasn't able to be as close to her anymore. Of course, I spent my summers on the reservation listening to stories around bonfires full of friends and family, playing on the beach, and spending every waking moment looking up to my grandma.

I guess that lasted until I was about fifteen. I had started high school and instead of going back to La Push in the summer, I wanted to spend time with my new friends. I didn't think Grandma would care, but two weeks after summer vacation started I got a phone call from her. Her disappointment made my decision seem juvenile. I had felt bad after the first phone call, but after the third or fourth call, I started making excuses to cut the conversation short.

I sighed and walked back to the front hallway where my parents were discussing how to arrange the furniture and where the extra boxes should be put in the meantime. I grabbed my suitcase and backpack and dragged them back to my oh-so-bare bedroom. Thinking back on it, I was filled with regret for all of the phone conversations we didn't have…all because of me. What did she think when time after time I had to "go to a friend's house" or "finish my chores?" She most likely knew I was avoiding talking to her, and yet she tried to give me chance after chance to redeem myself.

I'd been planning on visiting her this summer. Now she was gone…forever. What a cruel twist to life. You have opportunity after opportunity to make things right and just when you are ready to take that leap to making amends, your chance is gone—snatched away without any possibility of another.

I sat on my bed staring out the window when the tears finally came. It felt so odd that after an entire week of feeling nothing except shock, I suddenly had seven days of remorse and sadness just wash over me.

It started with two or three tears, but they were just the precursor. The minute the first few traitor drops appeared, more came. It took me a few minutes before I began to pick up the tempo, but before long I sat sobbing in my room, my knees pulled to my chest, a burning sensation in my throat making it impossible for me to swallow. I didn't notice it at first, but the sky had opened up, too, making it appear it was crying along with me. _'Welcome to Forks…'_

* * *

I can't really say how long I sat crying in my room, letting out everything that had accumulated over the past week. But I know I woke up sometime just before dawn, still feeling exhausted, my hair sticking to my face and my eyes feeling gritty from crying. I looked around, gathering myself, not completely sure of where I was. My eyes fell on my backpack lying haphazardly against the wall. From where I was sitting I could just see the package I'd been given peeking out. I realized I hadn't gotten the chance to look at it between moving and consoling my family.

Now urged with a burning desire to know the secret she'd alluded to, I crawled towards my bag, pulled away the paper, and revealed a book, bound in rich leather and smelling of my grandma. I hugged it close, inhaling her calming scent, before taking a closer look. I opened to the first page only to discover it was a journal. Her journal. The messy scrawl, which I had come to recognize through birthday cards and—once I'd moved away—letters, filled the book with her words. I didn't hesitate before beginning the first entry.

_March 20, 2006_

_I don't really know how to write in a journal, but I'll give it a try since Mom just sent this for me. She wants me to "write down all my feelings." She still doesn't trust me here ever since—well, since things changed. _

_Things seem really quiet around here. Charlie's been so distant since Harry died. He goes to work same as ever, but after he's like a zombie—just going through the motions. I thought that was my job. Well, not since Jake's been around._

_Speaking of Jake, how can everything be so simple and yet so complicated with him around? The day I jumped off of the cliffs, he was so close to kissing me. And the weird part was that I almost wanted him to. Just like the cliffs, it would be easy to take the leap. Jake is already so important to me…why not take it that step further? It's what he wants, after all. _

_But then, of course, I'm reminded why he and I are so close now. What could have been, and what reality really is. _"It'll be as if I never existed."_ Ha! Everything is more real to me now than ever before. I know now that Prince Charming doesn't come in on his white horse to whisk Cinderella away and live happily ever after. In the end, the spell is always broken at midnight and Cinderella realizes Prince Charming is too perfect for her, and the Prince goes on his happy way searching for distractions…_

_Or maybe…just maybe I have it wrong. Maybe Jake is Prince Charming coming for me before the clock strikes twelve…_

_I hear a car. That must be Jake. _

I stopped after the first entry, disappointed. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I had hoped the mystery would be easily solved, but everything was just as cryptic as her letter had been. Was there something I was supposed to be looking for—like skimming through—or should I read it word for word from the beginning?

I put the journal back in my backpack for another time. My stomach was growling in protest to the lack of attention I was giving it. Thank goodness it was Sunday. I had to finish my last two months of my junior year starting tomorrow. Not that I wasn't thrilled or anything…go Spartans. Even compared to my high school in Colorado with only 589 students with all four grades put together, Forks High was barely up there in numbers. Needless to say, I would be the center of attention for awhile.

I walked to the kitchen in search of food. My mother was already up, putting away dishes and humming to herself.

"Morning, Becca!" she sang, her happy mood spilling over and making me feel more awake. I walked to the cupboard and opened it. One lonely box of cereal sat there looking out of place in the empty space. I grabbed it quickly with no objections. We'd get more food once we were settled in. For now, it was all about the feeling of a full stomach.

"Morning, Mom," I replied, sitting down with my bowl of cereal. "You're in a good mood." Leave it to my mom to make the best of any situation.

"Oh, it's just so nice to be here again. I'm going to have to visit all my old friends."

At that moment, my father entered the room yawning and stretching his arms. Seeing my mother, he grabbed her by the waist and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. I'm not going to lie—I gagged a little on my Cheerios. I finished eating quickly to escape any more open displays of affection and ran to my room.

"Don't forget, Becca," my mom called after me, "we're going shopping soon."

* * *

Shopping with my mom is always an experience. As we walked down the aisles, she murmured and commented on prices and quality with a mingling of "oohs" and "ahs" thrown in at the sight of interesting objects.

"Oh, Becca, look at this! You can open the can without touching it. You just stick it in there and BAM!" she said clapping her hands. Her exclamation made me jump and turn towards her quickly. "Then, you've got yourself an open can. Isn't it amazing?"

I didn't bother answering. With my mom, she'd be over it in a second and off to examine something else before you could get two words in. I returned to the electric mixer I was inspecting before the interruption. Shrugging my shoulders, I put it into the cart. Our old one was busted and the only speed settings were fast or faster. Not recommended when mixing flour, though handy in a food fight. I had to admit, the food flinging radius was impressive.

I was just about to scrutinize a food saver when I heard my mom let out a small scream. Running towards her, I saw her wrap her arms around a blonde figure whose back was turned towards me. _'One of the old friends she must have been talking about.'_

"Oh, Becca, come here quick!" '_As if the woman would just disintegrate right there on the spot if I took my sweet time…' _

The blonde turned to face me with a broadened grin on her face. "Oh, Becca, you've grown so much! Last time I saw you, you were barely up to here." She pointed to a place just above her hip. Of course I was bigger than that the last time she saw me. I had most likely been ten after all, not five. I enjoyed seeing people after long periods of time just to criticize their lack of realistic details and horrible memories.

"Oh, poor dear, you must not remember me. I'm…"

'_Blonde hair, huge smile, not so endearing enthusiasm? Must be…'_

"…Tammy Booker," she finished. '_Thought so_.' The infamous daughter of Mike and Jessica Newton and wife to Paul Booker. She and my mother were best friends all through high school and even had play dates for me and her son, Jesse.

I played dumb—it's better when you do; the other person doesn't feel as bad that they can barely remember you—and put on a fake smile. When she seemed satisfied, she turned to my mother and began chatting about their high school years and how her family was doing.

I pushed the cart away—my mother would have at least an hours worth of material to catch up on—and started looking for more necessities. A salad shooter? Eh, if not we could always use it with the broken electric mixer. I passed through the cereal aisle and grabbed at least four boxes. We may have been a small family, but my father and I could eat us out of house and home if we didn't stay on top of groceries. My grandpa always blamed it on genes, though I had no idea how that tied into it.

My mother finally caught up with me and we made our way to the check-out counter with our three carts of supplies. Don't ask how I was able to push around three carts. It involved a lot of running back and forth. According to my mother, Tammy and her family would be coming over for dinner next week. She and my mom had a grand idea that they could still have play-dates for me and Jesse. I would most _definitely_ be ill that night.

* * *

The next morning was something I dreaded. I was barely able to sleep at all that night being too worried about my first day. I hadn't seen these people for seven years. Would they remember me? Most likely not, but their parents would remember my family, so they in turn would assume they remembered me, too._ 'Ugh, stop over-analyzing everything, Becca. It's just school.'_

I packed my lunch (no telling what the cafeteria food would be like) and waited for my mom to drive me there. Curse my parents for not getting me a car. It's practical, really, if I had my own vehicle. I'd be less of a burden to everyone. But no, I had to show my maturity in order to earn a privilege. Did they take me for one of those rebellious types of teens? I rarely broke the rules. I think I earned my driving privilege.

First period wasn't terrible. A few people made attempts to reintroduce themselves with an "Oh my god, I haven't seen you in so long!" I could handle being the center of attention. It was the pity I couldn't stand. Almost every student, teacher, and lunch lady knew that my grandmother had passed away, yet each one gave me nothing but sympathetic look, as if I was fragile and mentioning it would bring me to hysterics.

By fifth period, I had accumulated two friends that I deemed worth keeping. They, being the only ones who hadn't acted like they knew exactly who I was, were in short, everything I had hoped for on my first day. Erica Williams and Danni Heart both had Gym, Biology, and Trig with me, not to mention lunch. Having two previous classes with them made lunch less awkward. You know, me standing at the entrance, staring blankly around for anyone to make eye contact. Instead, they just assumed I'd follow them to their normal table (which I did).

The rest of the day went smoothly. I ended up running into Jesse Booker. The after effects of puberty suited him. He was tall, dark, and handsome by any means and had the entire female population of Forks High eating out of the palm of his hand. It looked like next weeks dinner wouldn't be cut short by a nasty bout of the flu.

By the last bell, I could feel my muscles relaxing, and I let out a sigh of relief. One day down, sixty-two left to go.

* * *

**A/N:** I've edited this chapter a bit so it flows better with the rest of the story. Hope you enjoy! Please REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I allow Stephenie Meyer to take credit for Twilight…she did create it after all.

Chapter 2: (Un)Answers

* * *

_March 26, 2006_

_I'm finding it harder and harder to hear _his_ voice. After pure ecstasy on the cliffs where it seemed he would materialize out of thin air to save me, it seems like no adventure is dangerous enough to bring him to me again. The motorcycle barely brings a whisper to my mind and standing at the edge of the cliff gives me nothing but chills as I remember how close Victoria was to me. _

_Victoria…what reaction would I get—what details could my mind create—if I were to face her? Of course, that would never happen. Jacob would never let that happen. He rarely lets me out of his sight for long now. How many times to I wake up at night to see a figure sitting in my rocking chair and still feel that hope that maybe it's someone other than Jake? Regardless of what I hope for, Jake is always there to protect me. And even if I were to somehow get away from him, it's unlikely that my interaction with Victoria (were it to ever happen) would go unseen by _everyone_._

_Maybe they'd come to the rescue. Maybe they would exact revenge on my death. And maybe they wouldn't come—wouldn't come because they didn't care. I'm not sure what the reaction would be. I don't intend to find out either. Hopefully, Jake and the others will finish everything soon._

"Becca! Hurry up, we need to go now!" my father yelled from the front door. I closed the journal quickly and rubbed my temples. Nothing like a good dose of my grandmother's confusing past. And to add to the growing pile of questions I had, it seemed my grandma was on a hit list, too. Couldn't she have given me jewelry instead?

"Becca!" my dad yelled again. I couldn't blame him for wanting to hurry. He was anxious to see my grandpa again. I ran down the stairs and out the door past my father who looked like he was getting ready to yell again.

We piled into the car, and I mulled over the journal entry again while the green scenery flew by. Who was this Victoria that my grandma had mentioned? And why did it seem there was so much more behind the story that she didn't, or couldn't, even get into?

All too soon we were pulling up to my grandpa's house. I was happy to see him, but it was still so hard to see him alone. I kept expecting Grandma Bella to walk in at any moment with a smile on and her arms outstretched. It caused a dull ache in my chest every time I thought about it.

After sitting and talking for a bit, my parents gathered a grocery list from my grandpa and headed out, leaving me alone with him. I studied him while he was focused on the newspaper in his hands. His eyes seemed tired and his hands shook a little as he read. I wanted so desperately to tell him something—anything really—to make him just a little happier.

"I love you, Grandpa," I said earnestly.

He looked up from his newspaper—"The Seattle Times"—with a startled look. His eyes softened and his lips turned upwards for a moment. "I love you, too, Rebecca." He was the only person in the family to call me by my full name. He always said that Becca was too short of a name for someone with such a big spirit. I let him call me that because it made me feel like we had something special between just the two of us.

"Grandpa, I wanted to ask you something." I had been thinking about the journal, but I hadn't made up my mind to ask him until that moment.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," he replied in his slow, deep voice.

"I don't know how to put this, and you may not even know the answer. I hardly even know what I'm trying to ask. It all seems so strange and mysterious though—."

"Rebecca. Spit it out."

I blushed and mumbled an apology. I paused for a moment thinking about what to say. Maybe the best way to do it was to just get straight to the point. "Who…who is Victoria?"

Grandpa Jake's reaction scared me. His face was puzzled at first and as quickly as the shocked look of realization came, it was replaced by anger. No, not anger. More like unadulterated hate and rage. "How do you know that name?" He whispered fiercely, grabbing my arms to pull me closer. His stare was so different from moments before. Instead of tired and sad, it was intense and dark.

I shivered and turned my gaze away before answering. Remembering Grandma's words in her letter to me, I knew I couldn't very well tell him of the journal. Instead, I lied. "I…I heard it from Grandma…a while ago. But I've wondered since then." His eyes glazed over when I mentioned her. Releasing my arms, he sat back in his chair and ran a wrinkled hand over his face—a telltale sign that he was debating what to say.

"Listen, Rebecca, a lot of things were different back then. Bella, she…well, she was in some trouble—,"

"Trouble, what kind of trouble?" I interrupted.

He just continued, acting as if I'd said nothing. "Victoria," he shuddered saying her name. His voice was strained, like it was hard to say it. "Victoria hated Bella. Wanted her dead, even."

"Why?" My voice cracked and my hands were sweating as I waited for him to explain further.

He licked his lips and rested his chin in his hand. Thinking for a moment, he finally continued. "Victoria blamed Bella for her _boyfriend's_ death, and, in turn, wanted to hurt her."

"Oh," I mulled over it for a moment. Grandpa Jake made it sound like it was much more than a high school fight. "What happened?"

"_That filthy blo_…," he stopped mid-sentence and shook his head. "She was insane. She was stalking your grandma, and Bella knew it." He stopped and picked his paper back up like nothing was wrong, but I could see his hands were shaking harder than before.

"Well? What did she do to Grandma? What happened after that?" I couldn't have him stop there. There was just so much more I needed to figure out.

"Nothing happened. It's in the past. I don't want to talk about it."

"No, Grandpa! Please tell me what happened. How did the boyfriend die?" He refused to look up from his paper. I stared at him, pleading with my eyes for him to continue, but he remained silent. "Grandpa…"

"Rebecca!" His loud, angry voice reverberated through the small house. I shrank back into my chair as my eyes began to sting with unshed tears. I blinked them away before he could see and walked to the kitchen.

Grandpa knew something. That was for sure. It was something big, and it bothered him. I didn't need to be a shrink to figure that out. What bothered me the most was what he told me wasn't complete. It had holes in it. Nothing was explained and all details were kept to a bare minimum. He didn't explain who Victoria was or how she knew my grandma.

I walked back in a few minutes later, my thoughts somewhat collected. At least I was calmer than before. My grandpa didn't even glance up as I walked in. He was staring at the paper with a strangled look on his face, like something disgusting laying there on his newspaper. I walked behind him to read over his shoulder. The headline read "New Wonder Doctor at Valley General Hospital." I read a few lines. It was something about a new Dr. Cullen working at the hospital in Monroe. Apparently, he was one of the best doctors they'd ever had. I didn't know what this had to do with my grandpa or why he looked like he was ready to rip the paper in half.

"_They're_ back," he muttered with disgust. I glanced at the name again. Cullen—not even a first name. I was sure we didn't know any Cullen's. Coming from a small town (even if you move away for seven years), you had the advantage of knowing everyone that lived there…whether you liked it or not.

"Who are the Cullen's?"

Again his eyes darkened. He breathed slowly to calm himself and folded the paper, placing it on the table beside him. "Just a family that used to live here." The way he said it gave me the feeling the conversation was over. I wanted to ask more questions, but today didn't seem to be my day for getting answers. Instead, I sat back and watched the rain patter on the windowpane as the seconds slowly ticked by until I could get back to Grandma's journal and, hopefully, to more answers.

I glanced up and gazed at the bookshelf across the room. I could see the weathered titles my grandma read so many times: _Wuthering Heights_, _Pride and Prejudice_, a full collection of Shakespeare. Another book sat next to them. A journal-like book that looked exactly like the one I had sitting under my bed at home. I went to the shelf to investigate. Pulling it out, I suddenly remembered playing with the book so many times before. I opened the crinkled pages and skimmed through the legends of the Quileute tribe. My grandma had written everything down so that her children and grandchildren would always be able to read them. Sighing, I remembered all the times I was told the legend of how we were descendants of wolves. I would laugh at it now, but when I was younger I was so absorbed in the stories that I would believe anything I was told.

I didn't notice Grandpa Jacob's attention fall on me until he cleared his throat. I looked up from the book and gave a tentative smile. His eyes were sad again and he looked like he was ready to cry. "You look so much like her."

Those words opened up the emotional wall I had put up after her death and refortified after my breakdown only a week ago. It was hard to explain, but I knew that there were really two choices for me. I could either cry about her death although it would change nothing, or I could stop feeling sorry for my loss and set my sights for something else: discovering the past she obviously wanted me to know.

But hearing my grandfather's words reopened the wound I was getting over. I missed her…horribly. How must my grandpa feel? He must die inside every time he looks at me, thinking about the love he lost. I shouldn't even be able to look at him. I just caused him more pain every time he saw me. It wasn't fair to him.

Seeing my guilty expression and the tears welling up in my eyes, he beckoned for me to come to him. I shook my head and let the tears spill. "Rebecca." His voice was gentle this time. I walked forward and let myself fall into his arms. "When I see you, I see Bella when she was younger, when we were teenagers. You remind me everyday of what I had with her."

I lowered my head. I didn't need to hear how much pain I caused him. He just hugged me closer. "Rebecca, I'm _glad_ you remind me of her. You remind me of all the good times we had together. You are my little piece of her I have left." His words just made me cry harder. I felt so unworthy of his praise. I had no right to be compared to her.

I slowly calmed down as he stroked my hair and when I was finally composed, I gently pulled myself from his arms. "Thank you." Giving him a watery smile, I sat back down in my chair, skimming through the myths, waiting for my parents to get back.

* * *

"_Hamlet's relationship with Ophelia was…"_ The beginning of my report stared back at me from the computer screen, daring me to write more. I sighed with frustration and leaned back in my chair. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate, my mind kept wandering back to the journal waiting for me, just a few feet away. It had been over a day since I had looked at it, and the discussion with Grandpa was still swirling around in my head. But still, I had homework and a certain dinner party to attend to. I would have to put Grandma's past aside for a few hours.

I strummed my fingers along the keyboard a few times, trying to stir up an idea when the doorbell rang. I ran to my mirror, running my hands through my hair and fixing my shirt. There was no time for reports or unsolved mysteries. The Bookers had arrived.

I flew down the stairs in record time and stood loyally beside my mother as she opened the door for our waiting guests.

Tammy burst through the door, not needing an invitation, and shook all of our hands. "Oh, what a lovely house. Just perfect! You've left so much room for improvement!" She guided herself through the house as we pathetically trailed behind her. I rolled my eyes at her ridiculous remarks. We had just moved in, of course there was "room for improvement." What did she expect, Buckingham Palace?

Thankfully, my mother stepped up to the plate so I wouldn't have to say anything that might further embarrass anyone. "Tammy, remember we've just moved in. I haven't even started decorating."

"Oh, yes, of course," she said with a bright smile, still letting her eyes wander around. It looked like she was storing away every bit of information so that when she left, all it would take is a few moments of her time to speed dial everyone and inform them of how the Blacks lived.

"Becca?" My mother motioned for me to come closer. Grabbing my hand as a subtle plea for help, she said, "Why don't you show the Bookers to the dining room?"

'_I'd really like to just show them out the door,' _I said to myself, rolling my eyes. Tammy guided herself to the room while the two Booker men just stood there awkwardly with embarrassment written all over their faces.

"Hi, Becca," Paul said quietly. "It's so nice to see you again." Well, he wasn't loudmouthed or rude…'A+' in my books.

I looked to Jesse who was the epitome of calm. He gave a small brilliant smile and stuck out his hand. "Hi, Becca." I swallowed nervously and shook his hand. He pulled me a little closer and my heart jumped. "Sorry about my mom," he whispered into my ear.

My cheeks burned and my ear tingled from where his hot breath had touched it. I led them quietly to the table and sat down. Jesse sat across from me, throwing me another quick smile.

Dinner went smoothly enough. After a few glasses of wine, Tammy was less inclined to control the conversation. As soon as everyone was finished, I stood to clear the plates.

"Jesse, be a dear and help Becca," his mother yawned. He followed me to the kitchen, holding a few plates. It was unnerving having him behind me. I felt his gaze but refused to acknowledge it. Putting the dishes in the dishwasher gave me something to preoccupy myself with while he sat on the counter watching me.

"Becca?"

His voice startled me and I looked up to see a perplexed expression on his face. "Hmm?"

"Do you have a boyfriend or something?" His voice sounded shy but he never broke eye contact with me.

His question threw me off. "Why do you ask?"

"How to put this without making it sound…conceited." His eyebrows furrowed in concentration but a playful smile spread across his face. "Girls…find me attractive."

Well, gotta love a guy who didn't beat around the bush. Still, it didn't explain why he was asking. "And…?" I prodded.

"And you seem, well, not attracted to me." He jumped off the counter and took a step towards me.

Swallowing seemed to be a difficult commodity to come by in his presence. My mouth was like sandpaper as I replied. "I don't…don't have a boyfriend." Why did the boy have to make me so nervous?

"And…?" It was his turn to prod.

"And I am…_attracted_…to you."

His smiled widened to show his perfect white teeth. "I'm glad." Those two words, that was all it took for me to melt right there in front of him. He was _glad_—glad that I liked him—which could only mean, in latent terms, that he liked me back.

He grabbed my hand and led me to our front porch where we sat talking until his parents walked out, or it seemed more like Paul _dragged_ Tammy out. As his father carefully helped his highly intoxicated wife into the passenger seat, Jesse gave me a quick hug and a look that sent shivers down my back. _'Handsome and gentlemanly? Seems too good to be true.'_

After the car pulled away, reality hit. First, I realized that Jesse Booker, most eligible bachelor in Forks (at least to the teenage female population), was mine. That thought in itself was enough to give me goose bumps. The second, and less positive realization was that it was 9:30…and I still had to do my report.

* * *

**A/N:** I tweaked this chapter. Not too many changes though. Tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Me plus Twilight? Only in my dreams.

**A/N:** If any were wondering in the last chapter: yes, Monroe is a real town in WA and there is a hospital fairly nearby named Valley General.

Chapter 3: Time Out

* * *

The word 'exhausted' didn't even cover it the next day in school. I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Jesse after the dinner party that my paper wasn't finished until 2 a.m. I wasn't even able to read another journal entry before bed which made concentrating in class actually _harder._ I felt uneasy knowing the book was waiting for me at home, unread and unsolved.

I took my study hall in the library, catching up on my history homework. It was easily tackled since it was practically review from earlier in the year at my old school. I stood up with the intention of finding a book to read when I was drawn to the other side of the small library.

A few rows of yearbooks ranging in age contrasted with the other books they were placed with. I skimmed the years until I found the newest one. Flipping through the pages revealed a year younger—but still extremely attractive—Jesse Booker along with my new school friends and a few others I recognized from classes.

I picked up another, a little older and more worn, and quickly found my mother. Her high school self wasn't much different than what she was now. Of course, she had a few wrinkles here and there and maybe one or two gray hairs now, but I could see the same person staring at me from the book that I saw every morning.

I picked up yet another yearbook when I was stuck with an idea. I was excited and flustered as I looked for the year. Finding it, my fingers fumbled to open to the right page, only to be disappointed. My grandma's picture was missing from the faces on the paper. Not giving up, I set the book down and picked up the next one and flipped to the 'S' section of the seniors. 'Swan.' I had found it. But the person staring at me was not someone I expected to see. I saw the younger version of my grandma; that much was obvious. But there was something about her face that scared me. Her eyes were dark and empty, and her shoulders were slumped forward in a defeated stance.

I snapped the book shut, not wanting to see the shell that my grandma was. I picked up the year before again and started flipping through the pages. I racked my brain trying to figure out why she wasn't in with the juniors. I flipped to the 'Prom' section to reveal multitudes of photos of the junior and senior classes all dressed in their finest, dancing and posing for the camera. I scanned the pictures and saw a face that many have said I resemble. Grandma Bella stared at me from the page with a satisfied and content expression. She was in the arms of someone whose face was turned away, the skin of his neck almost as white as the page it was on and his bronze colored hair contrasting greatly. But the look on her face caught my attention. It was enough to tell me that—at least at that point in time—she was happy.

I remembered that she had moved to Forks midway in the year, explaining her missing school picture. I traced a finger over her smile, her full lips I shared, and her broad forehead. What had happened between the two pictures to cause such a difference? I honestly felt like the answer would be in the journal.

Hands suddenly covered my eyes and a voice whispered "boo" in my ear. My smile was automatic. "Guess who?"

"Hmm, let me think," I paused, pretending to actually ponder the answer. "I mean, there is a multitude of guys that are just begging for my attention. You could be any one of them."

The hands spun me around. "I'm your biggest and best fan," Jesse joked. He brushed a strand of hair from my face. My heart raced for a moment.

"What brings you to this fine establishment?" I asked, feeling slightly awkward standing in the middle of the library, victim to the curious glances from other students.

"English paper," he said, holding up _Heart of Darkness_. "You?"

"History. But now I'm done."

"Do you have much homework tonight?" he asked, opening his book down casually, but his eyes flicked up to meet mine.

"No, just trig. Why?" Playing stupid—what a wonderful trick to make boys feel smart.

"Oh, nothing." He trailed off for a few seconds. "Well, it's just…I was wondering if you wanted to do something tonight?"

Staring at him, I could tell he looked nervous and hopeful. His hand strummed the table beside him, and his one eyebrow did a cute little twitch every few seconds as he waited for my reply. I paused for an extra few seconds—nothing like making him sweat a little.

"Yeah, I think I can do something. Anything in mind?" _'Please not a movie, please not a movie, please not a—.'_

"I was thinking we could have dinner and walk around Port Angeles a while."

I smiled and nodded. In my opinion, going to the movies was a safety feature. You didn't have to talk or even make eye contact, and most guys took advantage of the dark surroundings to…well, movies just weren't good first dates in my opinion. But dinner and window shopping? There was conversation and one-on-one time. _That_ was perfect for a first date. What could I say? I had very high standards.

Danni and Erica met me on my way to lunch. Both kept shooting me suspicious glances every few seconds.

I sighed as we entered the cafeteria. "Is there something you have to say?"

Danni spoke up first. "Well, Megan said she saw you in the library with Jesse Booker…" She left the statement open, waiting for my reaction.

"So?" I asked, slightly surprised at how fast gossip traveled here.

"Well, I mean…we were just wondering…are you _with_ Jesse?" Erica stammered.

I thought about it for a moment. Was it safe to say I was with him? He _had_ just asked me out.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Be careful," was Danni's immediate reply.

"And the reason for your sudden concern?"

"Jesse is known to be a bit of a…" Erica's brows furrowed in concentration, most likely trying to find the right word.

"Womanizer. Back-stabbing cheater. Asshole. You decide what fits best," Danni quipped.

Their advice came as a shock to me. Jesse had seemed…wonderful. But I took it to heart anyway. I was the newcomer here, and it would be foolish on my part to pretend I knew everything. Still, I needed to see for myself.

* * *

At home, the first thing I did was run straight up to my room, and reach under my bed to grab the journal. I flipped to the last page I read.

"…_I remember how close Victoria was to me….hopefully, Jake and the others will finish everything soon…"_

Those two sentences stood out among the rest. I pulled out a notebook and started adding things to my list of growing questions and things I didn't quite understand.

_Who is Victoria?_

_Jake and the 'others.' Who is she talking about?_

He_…_they_…seem important. Who is she referring to?_

'_It will be as if I never existed.'_

I tapped my pencil on the paper before drawing a line between my last two thoughts. I had a feeling the two were connected somehow. Finished with analyzing her past entries, I turned to the next page.

_March 30, 2006_

_We rode our motorcycles today. I haven't fallen off in a while and Jake says I earn a year for that. _

_It was a bad day for him. Sam lost Victoria and took it out on the rest of them. I'm paranoid thinking that she might get tired of waiting and just come for me, but Jake tells me not to worry. He so positive he has everything under control but how can I trust him? He's so young. Even with the others there to help him, I'm afraid Victoria could take them all._

_I know Jake is strong, but I think she is stronger. Just look at what _he_ did to Tyler's car that day on the ice. I probably have a better idea of how strong she is more than anyone else._

_Charlie will be home soon. I need to start on dinner. I think I hear Jacob outside, as usual. I guess he'll want food, too._

Again, after reading the entry, I felt overwhelmed by the new information. I felt like all I was doing these days was asking unanswerable questions. Well, not unanswerable—the answers were out there somewhere—but they were well hidden.

She spoke of Sam. That must have been Sam Uley. So did that mean the 'others' she talked about were other friends of my grandpa? Quil and Embry maybe? I couldn't be certain, but I put it on my list for further thought.

I glanced at the time and panicked. Jesse was due to pick me up in less than fifteen minutes. I stripped out of my school clothes and, after a few minutes of deliberation, put on a green sweater and khaki pants. I applied just a bit of mascara and lip gloss, grabbed my purse, and went downstairs to wait.

Wait was something I barely had to do. I was just sitting down in the living room when the doorbell rang. I ran to the door, glanced in the mirror my mother had just recently hung up by the entrance—thank you, mom—, and opened the door. Jesse stood on my doorstep with a surprisingly shy smile. Danni and Erica's warning was forgotten immediately.

"Ready to go?" he asked, taking my hand.

"Of course," I replied, reveling in the feeling of my hand in his. His skin was rough and smooth at the same time and gave me goose bumps when he casually rubbed his thumb over my hand.

The car ride wasn't uncomfortable in the least bit. We talked about music and movies and our favorite kinds of food. Music was the only subject we could agree on. He like action movies while, although I didn't hate them, I enjoyed a good romance more. He was into Southern food while I died in Italian restaurants. It was okay, though. We agreed to disagree by the end of the car ride.

After our food discussion, I was surprised when Jesse pulled up to a little restaurant called La Bella Italia. He glanced at me and smiled.

"I like Italian food, too. Don't look so surprised."

Dinner was fantastic. I ate far too much, and walking around afterward was a good idea. Jesse made sure we walked into every store in which I seemed interested. I found it cute how he swung my hand back and forth like we were ten years younger. There was a certain endearing aspect of how different he was with me than how he acted at school. It was almost as if his guard was up at school, trying to maintain his "cool" status. Maybe that's what Danni and Erica had been referring to. He did seem to have the "player" reputation while at school. But I couldn't find anything to worry about when he was so open and carefree with me.

* * *

We arrived back at my house after ten. My curfew was at eleven, and I tried to persuade him to stay out until then—we ended up sitting in his car for almost twenty minutes talking about anything and everything—but he insisted on taking me home a little early.

"I don't want to test the waters this soon," he said, walking me to my front door. "Dads tend to be a little more trusting if the boy brings the girl home before the clock strikes twelve…metaphorically of course."

I sighed, knowing he was right. "I had a fun time," I said earnestly.

"Me, too." He raised his hand to brush a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lightly stroking my cheek. I leaned into his touch and sighed again. If I could compare this date to others—meaning if I had been on any other dates—it probably would have been the best.

He bent down and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. My entire body seemed to come alive with electricity. It traveled from my lips to my toes and back up again, causing a small blush to grace my cheeks.

"See you at school, Becca," he said smiling as he backed away towards his car. I stood on the porch for a while, staring at where his car had been. I touched my lips tentatively. They still tingled from the shock. My first kiss.

When I finally went inside, my father was sitting on the couch, the TV on but muted. He turned around when he heard me. I saw his eyes glance from me to the clock and back again, then nod in approval. Jeez, Jesse really had the "dad" thing down to perfection.

"Good night?" he asked, turning the volume up on the television.

"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly.

"What did you two do?"

If I hadn't known my dad, this would have sounded like a trick question. But his question was merely out of curiosity. "We went to Port Angeles and had dinner in this little Italian restaurant. Then, we went around the town, window shopping."

"Sounds like fun." His attention was slowly being sucked back into the program he'd been watching before I got home.

"Yep."

"Jesse's a good kid. I like his dad." I smiled inwardly at his obvious exclusion of Jesse's mother. My father and I were a lot alike.

"See you in the morning, Dad," I said, making my way up the stairs.

It took him a moment to respond, his eyes glued to the screen. "Night, Becca." I rolled my eyes, and continued to my room.

I took the journal out from under the bed and laid it beside me. I stared at it as if it would suddenly spring to life and share what it knew.

As far as I knew, the entire thing was filled with my Grandmother's thoughts, memories, and experiences. But the way she wrote was so confusing, filled with gaps and missing explanations, that it was impossible to know everything she intended to put in there. There were over a hundred pages filled with mysteries that I had yet to discover. I was only a few pages in, and already I felt overwhelmed.

Sometimes I wish that Grandma Bella had told me her secrets before she had died. It would make my job a lot easier. But then again, she had to have had a reason for hiding it from everyone. The fact that she'd share it with me at all was an honor.

And the more I thought about it, it would be one thing to just tell me her past, whether I understood or not. It's something else entirely to have to figure everything out on my own, to be my own detective, my own Sherlock and Watson. But it would be nice to fill in at least one gap every now and then. The more I read, the more confusing things became.

I flipped it open experimentally. The pages, musty and yellowed and covered in a careful handwriting, tempted me to read them.

I decided to take a time out on the journal. As much as it distracted me when I didn't read, I knew that my life would become a whole lot more complicated if I didn't slow down. I had Grandma's life to figure out, but I still had mine to live.

I closed the journal gently, placing it once again under my bed, to wait for another day. I'd work with what I'd already found out, but I knew I'd drive myself insane if I tried to do it all at once.

I turned off the light and fell asleep after a few minutes. That night I dreamt of Quileute legends—of shape shifting wolves—and of pale-skinned prom dates and a little restaurant named La Bella Italia.

* * *

**A/N:** I revised this chapter a little more than the others. There was no interaction with Danni and Erica before, but I felt it played an important role for later in the story. Please remember to review. I won't know how to make my story better if I don't hear what you guys think!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Twilight. Don't pretend to.

Chapter 4: The Scare

* * *

_"Grandma?"_

"_Yes, Becca?"_

"_Are vampires mean?"_

_Grandma Bella's face was surprised and concerned. "Why do you ask that, darling?"_

_I stared up at her from her lap. "Someone in school said he saw a movie about them and they were mean and killed people. That's not true, is it Grandma?"_

_She heard fear in my voice and hugged me close. "Not all vampires, darling," she said quietly, staring out the window._

"_But David said he saw a movie about them and said his older brother told him they were real mean."_

"_Well, David can't know everything, now can he? _

"_But how do you know?"_

"_It's just something grandmas' know."_

"_Kind of like werewolves, right Grandma? You always say Grandpa Jacob is hairy enough to be a werewolf."_

"_Yes, Becca," she said, stroking my hair, "kind of like werewolves."_

* * *

The morning was bright…for once. My grandma's voice echoed in my head as the last bit of my dream faded. What had my dream been about? I hated that feeling where you almost remember, you almost grasp it, but it eludes you every time.

Realizing it was the weekend, I decided to laze around in my pajamas for at least half the day (it was my form of teenage rebellion). That way I'd be forced to be semi-productive after I got dressed. I checked my e-mail. The promised once-a-day e-mails from my friends back in Colorado were becoming more like once-every-time-I-feel-like-it.

_Becca,_

_I miss you! So Tyler and Erin are going out! Finally, right? Well, I miss you tons and we should find a way to hang out over spring break! Lot's of love_

_xoxo _

_Jenny_

Gag me. Was it wrong to feel like this was all just a way to say "Hey, I'm never really going to see you again but here's a cheer for trying to care?" Yay! Go you, Jenny and Olivia and Erin, and all the other friends who would eventually stop attempting to make contact. Even though they all knew the reason I moved back out here, I never once got a "Sorry your grandma died" or anything like that. It was all sugar-coated with pointless things like who was dating who, and who wasn't dating who (who happened to be expecting a who).

Being frustrated always has a way of making me hungry…a lot of things make me hungry…but frustration was up there. After a good bowl of cheerios and two waffles drenched in "I'm so good, you _will_ eventually die from high cholesterol and clogged arteries" syrup, I was ready to be more productive. But what's a girl to do when she has no car and nowhere to go?

* * *

The steady pounding of my feet on the pavement was rhythmic and soothing. I always loved running. I wasn't necessarily good at it (I always ended up tripping over something, usually myself), but if I put my mind to it, I could really go far. Today was one of those days where I felt like running. Wherever, however long, it didn't matter. I would go until my legs gave out.

Trees were whipping past me, dogs were barking as I ran by, and people mowing lawns in the sunny weather looked up to see the crazy, sweaty girl fly past them. I was a fast runner, a trait supposedly passed down by my grandfather. I had tried out for the track team back in middle school. I broke a lot of records for the school and won a lot of meets, until one day I just wasn't interested in running for a purpose anymore. For me, running had to be spontaneous and definitely not in a circle (oval…whatever you wanted to call it). I liked running until I was almost sure I had no idea where I was. Then I would have to retrace my steps just to get to a landmark I recognized. That was the adventure I craved for.

With that in mind, I wasn't surprised to see I had wandered off the road at some point and onto an overgrown path. I wasn't hesitant. I ran further and further noticing the gravel crunching underneath my sneakers. So it wasn't just a path, but an overgrown and under-used driveway.

I ran for what seemed like forever until I reached an opening. And what a glorious adventure I was having today. In front of me towered humongous trees lining the driveway. At the end stood a tall, white house. It looked out of place with the weeds growing around it. It was abandoned, that much I could tell. A large hole in a front window told me that someone had been here at one point to vandalize the place.

I stopped right in front of the house, taking in everything that there was to be seen. I ventured towards the back of the house. Almost the entire back wall of the massive building was windowed. Someone who was obviously well-off lived here at one point in time. I tried the doors, but all were locked. So was it really abandoned? Or just waiting for the owners to return someday?

I found a tree close enough to the house that gave some well-needed shade to my overheated body. I relaxed against the bark, deciding this would be my spot to run to. The house looked lonely, as weird as it sounds, and I would visit it, at least until the owners returned (if they ever did).

* * *

And that's exactly what I did the next day. I woke up early (what is early to a teenager?), threw on my sneakers, and ran back out to the house. It seemed quicker the second time, maybe because I knew where I was going.

I sat under my tree and pulled out the book I brought with me. We were having some sort of dry spell, so I wasn't worried about being rained on. The sun was out and warm, the grass I was sitting on was soft and thick. It was easy to relax in a place like this.

As I got into my book, I couldn't help but have that creepy sensation that someone was watching me. My face suddenly felt flushed but my arms prickled with goose bumps. I tried to ignore the feeling, but my heart wouldn't stop racing.

I carefully set my book face down to save my spot, and stood up. I felt the fight or flight reaction. My muscles tensed and my veins pulsed and my palms were moist with sweat. I wasn't much of a fighter…but I could outrun a lot of things. I strained my ears to hear something, anything. All I could hear were the chirping songs of birds in the forest.

"Chill, Becca. You're overreacting," I whispered to myself, trying to force a brave act. "Yeah, and if you die out here, no one will know," the other half of my brain seemed to say to me. My legs were still tense as I started into the woods, twigs cracking underneath my feet. I stopped when I got to the point where I could barely see the house, just the occasional glimpse of white through the trees. "Breathe," I pointed out to myself, and my lungs filled on command.

I stood for a moment, waiting for something, anything. But again, all I heard were the birds singing back and forth to one another from high above. I let out a sigh, my muscles relaxed by a fraction. But then I heard it, an audible snap of a twig or branch that was definitely not coming from my feet.

My first instinct was to run. I wheeled around towards the source of the sound trying to discern what was out there. I tried to recite the rules for wild animals. Number one: Don't run. If it was a bear or something, I could end up being its next meal. Fast food on the run, except I would be doing the running. I slowly took one step backwards. Then another and another until I was quickly backing out of the forest and into the open space around the house.

I stood safely by the tree once again, panting heavily and shaking with adrenaline. I forced myself to believe I was overreacting. It was probably just a deer or something and ran off when it saw me. After a couple minutes of staring at the tree line for signs of an attack, I sat back down to read. I picked the book up, but my heartbeat immediately skyrocketed again. My book was not on the page I left it at, and one of the pages was bent.

I would have broken all my school records all over again with how fast I ran back to my house. The adrenaline I had storing up inside me suddenly raced straight to my legs when I found my book tampered with. Should I assume someone was spying on me? Well, they didn't make conversation while fondling my book, that was for sure.

* * *

I was on the verge of passing out once I reached my front door. I staggered to the kitchen where my mom was making a sandwich for my dad. When she turned around and noticed me standing in the doorway, sweat dripping from my face, my hair and clothes wild from the run, she gasped and dropped the sandwich right onto my dad's plate. It would've been comical if I wasn't in desperate need of an inhaler.

"Becca, darling, what's wrong?" She switched into mother-mode and quickly pulled me into a seat and poured a glass of water for me, but kept it out of reach until I had calmed down. I learned the hard way one time after a race. I drank my entire water bottle right after running distance and immediately threw it back up…disgusting. Thank God my mom remembered that incident, too.

I focused on breathing until the black spots in my vision cleared. "I…" I attempted to tell them what was wrong, but my throat was too dry. My mom pushed the water towards me.

"Slowly," she warned.

I took two small sips (oh, how I wanted to chug the whole glass, then just stick my mouth under the faucet and drink until I burst) before continuing. "I went for a run and I stop to rest for a while. I was in this…clearing…and I heard something moving." I took another sip. "But I think I just freaked myself out, so I ran back here as fast as I could." I couldn't explain to myself why I didn't tell them about the abandoned house or how I found the book. Maybe because I felt like they wouldn't allow me to return to the house if they knew. And as weird as it was, I was definitely planning on going back (maybe with a can of pepper spray in hand).

A few tears rolled down my cheeks as the adrenaline wore off. "Oh, honey," my mom cooed. She rubbed my back and worked at the knots in my wild hair. That was the great thing about moms. No matter how small or trivial the problem, they always treated it the same as the big stuff.

* * *

I went to bed early that night after a long shower. I tried to read my book, but the bent page—I still hadn't fixed it—freaked me out too much. So instead, against my word to give it a rest for a while, I pulled the journal out from under my bed.

_April 7__th__, 2006_

_Charlie found out about the motorcycles. How, I haven't a clue, but there he was when I got home from Jake's, furious and demanding an explanation. I have a sneaking suspicion that Billy ratted us out._

_Needless to say, I'm grounded…indefinitely. It's honestly the perfect time though due to Jake's recent attempts to ask me out. It's cute, it's endearing, but I think I'm having difficultly seeing him as anything more than a best friend. Or maybe I'm not having difficulty at all and it scares me._

_Charlie's rules until further notice: No Jake allowed. Although I'm going to be without my best friend until Charlie un-grounds me or gives in, this is the perfect opportunity for me to decide what I want…and what I'm willing to give up._

So my grandma was breaking all the rules with Grandpa…interesting. I flipped the page to the next entry, too eager to wait.

_April 20__th__, 2006_

_It's been two weeks since Charlie grounded me. Two weeks without Jake (technically a few hours since he snuck into the house to hang out for a while). I think Charlie is going to break soon. Without Jake, I have nothing to do except things around the house, and I think that reminds him too much of last time._

_I've decided not to decide anything when it comes to Jake. It's just too hard to tell him how I feel without some part of me wishing I could take it back. Maybe if he's willing to wait a while, I can make some room for him._

It was weird reading about Grandma and Grandpa when they were teenagers. Grandma seemed so reluctant to be with Grandpa. It was weird to hear about them before they were happily married. I'd always known my grandma wasn't in love with Grandpa Jacob, and I was eager to find the reason why she would finally decide to marry him.

I put the journal back under the bed. Staring up at my ceiling, I thought about the house and whoever had picked up my book. It wasn't a special book. At least it didn't look like one. It was one of my grandma's that I had taken from her shelf last time I was visiting Grandpa. It was old and yellowed, and the spine was bent in half showing my grandma had read the book repeatedly. So why would someone care about an old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ lying on the ground? Did they wait for me to walk into the forest? And if so, why?

I made up my mind at that point. I would wait until next weekend and visit the house again. And if there was someone spying on me, they would show themselves.

* * *

**A/N:** I've edited this chapter a bit. Please review and tell me what you think!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I am forever grateful to that woman.

Chapter 5: Cliffs

* * *

I sat at the far end of the worn couch, watching four elderly men get excited about a baseball game. I crossed my arms in frustration and sighed. Don't you hate it when you have plans to do something but your parents have different plans and if you don't follow _their_ plans they whip out the maturity/responsibility card? Yeah, I hate it too.

My plans to go back to the house backfired when my parents _politely insisted_ that I go to my grandpa's house to spend time with him. "He misses you, Becca," my father had said.

Spending time with my grandpa was fine…when we were alone, but given the circumstances, I was feeling a little awkward in a room full of men over the age of 70.

"Hey, Quil, pass the chips."

"You know how hard it is for me to get around. Ask Seth."

"Seth?"

Before the man in question could bring himself to rise from the couch, I grabbed the bowl of chips and handed it to my grandpa.

"Thank you, Rebecca."

"You're welcome." I turned to the rest of the group in the room. "Quil, Seth, would you like anything? How about you, Embry?" They shook their heads, intent on the game. I rolled my eyes discretely. Men never change.

I tried to get into the game, really I did. But after the fourth period or inning or whatever you called it, I was more willing to walk across hot coals than sit through more. "I'll be right back," I said, even though I was fully aware no one heard me. I wasn't offended. No, I had known these people since my childhood. They were like family—uncles—to me when I was younger. They were always together, closer than brothers. I used to play with their grandsons (yeah, I was the only girl in my generation) when I was with Grandpa Jake and Grandma Bella. Of course, there were a few less "uncles" these days. Sam Uley had passed away seven years ago shortly after his wife. Jared and his wife were gone, too, only five years ago. Still, even with a few losses, the group of friends never seemed closer.

I walked outside for a bit, inspecting the driftwood for a dry place to sit. It was drizzling a bit, enough to make my hair frizzy, but life still went on for those in La Push. I was lost in thought, thinking about the house and the journal and Jesse. I blushed at the last thought, the memory of our Wednesday study session turning into more of a make-out session still fresh in my mind. Danni and Erica still insisted that I watch out, but I kept trying to convince them he was reformed.

It was the sound of footsteps that brought my attention back to the present. It was Seth's grandson, Adam. I could tell by the small birthmark above his left eye. It felt so natural to see him here, and yet I was still nervous. I hadn't talked to him, or the other guys for that matter, in years.

"Becca Black, haven't seen you in ages," he said with a smile. He was a year older than me and used to push me into tidal pools when we were younger. Then again, he would also yell at anyone else who tried to do the same. We used to be close, the closest actually, before I had moved.

"Hey, Adam," I said, moving over so he could sit next to me.

"What brings you down here after so long?" he asked with an accusing look in his eyes. I sighed in frustration. One thing about being so close to a group of people is when you separate yourself, they hold it over your head for a long time.

"You know why I'm here, Adam," I growled.

"I was talking about today, but as for that, I'm sorry," he said, his head lowered. Since I got here, to the hell-hole called Forks, he was the first one to say sorry about my grandma.

"Thank you…really," I whispered.

He could tell I was on the verge of tears and quickly averted my attention. "So, the reason? Why you're here today?"

"Well, I was watching the game with my grandpa, but Embry, Quil, and your grandpa are over there, too. Four old men shouting at a small TV screen? It's intense."

He laughed a warm, deep laugh and I noticed for the first time that he seemed a lot older than the last time I had seen him. He was taller, and thicker, built more like a grown man than a teenager. He noticed me scrutinizing him and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just been a while, like you said."

"What are your plans for today," he asked, dropping the subject. He picked up a rock and tossed it out into the water.

"I guess after the game is over, I'll go back and read a book or maybe go wild and do a crossword or two."

"Sounds thrilling," he chuckled. "Well, if you get tired of that excitement, me and a few guys are going up to the cliffs. You're welcome to come."

"Which guys? And isn't it a little cold out for the cliffs?"

"Okay, _mom_. It's just Dan, Connor, and me. And it's never too cold." The last bit he added with a huge grin.

"I'll have to check, but come by my grandpa's later." I stood up and brushed my pants off. We started walking back towards Grandpa Jacob's. It was a silent trip but it was easy to feel comfortable with him. Our friendship hadn't suffered after so many years. He stopped where our paths split.

"See you in an hour?"

"Sounds like a plan." I turned my back and started walking again.

"Later, Rae," I heard him call over his shoulder. I smiled to myself as his childhood nickname for me brought back a flood of memories.

I got to the house just as everyone was leaving. "Good game?" I asked as I passed by Seth. His grumbling gave me the answer. "Oh, sorry. We'll, um, get them next time?" He just grumbled again and kept walking.

I picked up the bowls of chips and bottles of soda and fixed the couch before I even turned to my grandpa. When I did, he was smiling at me with a knowing expression.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" He laughed at the shocked look on my face. "Your grandma used to do the same thing. Whenever she was nervous about something, she would do something with her hands, usual clean."

"Oh, well, yeah I guess there was _something_…"

"And?"

"I was wondering if I could go to the cliffs with some of the guys in about an hour."

His face was wary. "Which guys? You won't be jumping, will you?"

"No, I won't jump. And I'm going with Dan, Connor, and Adam." He seemed to relax after I mentioned Adam. No doubt he was thinking back to how careful he'd always been with me. I'd be perfectly safe with him no matter the situation.

"Alright then," he said gruffly. "Be careful."

"Thank you, Grandpa."

"Sure, sure," he replied with a smile. I gave him a quick hug before settling myself on the couch with a crossword book. I wasn't able to concentrate though, the low hum of the TV and noise of my grandpa turning the page of the newspaper making it impossible to focus.

"Grandpa?" I asked tentatively, hoping he wouldn't mind being torn away from his reading.

"Yes, Rebecca?" He didn't put the paper down, a telltale sign he wasn't ready to give me his full attention.

I proceeded carefully. "I was just wondering if you could tell me something about Grandma."

"What do you want to know?"

I cleared my throat, already uncomfortable with the question my mind was forming. Still, I persisted. If I didn't ask now, I didn't know when I would. "Oh, you know…anything. How long did you date?"

"About four years," he answered without looking at me.

"Wow, such a long time."

"She had commitment issues. Marriage was something saved until you were done with school and had a steady job and a stable life."

"And you were willing to wait four years," I added, surprise noticeable in my voice.

"Four years plus some," was his reply.

"Oh." That hadn't really been the topic I wanted to discuss but I couldn't just bring it up randomly. Now I had the perfect opportunity. "Was she with someone before you?"

He dropped his paper like it was on fire and stared at me for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering really…" I cringed. The look on his face would have been comical if it hadn't been pointed at me. The veins in his wrinkled forehead bulged and his eyes were narrowed and focused.

"Yes, she had a boyfriend before me." His answer was slow and deliberate, like he had to force the words out.

"Oh. I'm taking it you didn't like him very much."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed with a look of frustration. "No, he and I didn't quite see eye to eye, even though we barely knew each other. He left before Bella and I became good friends. He broke your grandmother's heart and I was there to put the pieces back together."

"Did you get together soon after they broke up?" This information was like water during a drought. My eagerness consumed every bit of me, as if all that mattered in the world was what he was telling me.

"No, it took some time." He laughed at some memory of his. "We were friends—best friends—for a while. I promised her adventure and she constantly raised the bar. Man, could she attract trouble." His words were quicker and his voice higher with excitement as he continued. "We fixed up a pair of bikes and I taught her to ride. Behind your great-grandfather's back, of course. We visited the hospital a couple of times while she was learning. I don't think her father ever cared though, as long as he saw her happy after the breakup." His thoughtful appearance turned to one of mild annoyance. "Finally, when riding the bikes became easy, she wanted something more, and even now, I get angry about it. She nearly killed herself."

My sharp intake of breath caused him to turn his attention toward me. "Your grandmother had seen a few of my friends jumping from the cliffs when we were still barely friends. I guess that's what first put the idea in her head. One day, a few months later, she decided she couldn't wait for me and went up to the cliffs and jumped. There was a storm brewing and the current was strong and if I hadn't come at the last second, she would've drowned.

"You can see why I don't want you cliff diving?" I nodded my head slowly, the story slowly sinking into my head. It all fit with the beginning of my grandma's journal, the entry about the cliffs and about the motorcycles. The mysterious Victoria fit into this story somewhere, but after Grandpa Jake's reaction to her name the last time I brought it up, I was hesitant to mention her again. It was all more pieces to a puzzle I was desperate to solve. The problem was I couldn't see the final picture on the front of the box, and my puzzle was a jumbled mess.

I left our conversation there and pretended to concentrate on the crossword in front of me, but I let my mind wander. Obviously, the pain and sadness in her journal was all a repercussion of this previous boyfriend leaving her, and it was clear that my grandpa was taking up more and more of her time and thoughts. I was curious to know just how important this boyfriend was. I would wait though, knowing Grandpa wouldn't want to talk about it.

* * *

The rest of the hour ticked by slowly and silently, and when Adam appeared on the doorstep, I jumped up quickly and said my goodbyes to my grandfather hastily.

"Be careful," he reminded me again.

It didn't take very long to get to the cliffs, but by the time Adam and I arrived, Dan and Connor were already soaked from the first jump. I sat myself carefully on a rock close enough to the edge where I could witness the freefall but far enough away to quell my grandfather's and Adam's worries.

"Whoa, Becca! Adam didn't say you were here!" Dan said running over to where I was sitting. Connor followed right behind him. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked impatiently. "Stand up and give your long lost brothers a hug!"

I rolled my eyes at his use of the word brother. We weren't even related but he insisted on making it seem so. "Dan, you're soaked," I reminded him gently. I was already wet from the light drizzle, but I didn't feel like being soaked through.

"So?" My eyes widened as he stepped closer with his arms spread.

"Don't you dare!" I warned him, leaning backwards, dangerously close to falling off the rock and on my butt.

He lunged forward, grabbing me up in a tight hug, drenching the front of my shirt and pants. I screamed in protest, fighting his bear grip. "Daniel Uley! Put me down now!" He complied with a smirk. He moved out of the way, only to be replaced by his brother, Connor. I took a step back, but it was too late. I was swept up again a pair of strong arms—strong, wet arms. I squirmed, but it was no use.

"Don't fight it, Becca," Dan quipped. "You know you missed us." Connor put me down gently with a huge grin. I scowled, but it was no use. His smile was infectious and soon the corners of my mouth were pulling up.

"Whatever, you big bears. How could I miss you?" I sat back down on the rock, attempting to wring out the water from my shirt. I was lying, though. It was obvious to me now that these were my real friends, always had been, and probably always would be. I belonged here. Too bad I didn't realize that when it mattered the most.

"Are you two ready to jump or are we just gonna sit around all day?" Adam grumbled.

"If you hadn't noticed, Adam dearest, we've already jumped. You just took your sweet-ass time getting here. So, you're up," Connor replied with a smirk.

I was nervous as Adam walked towards the edge. One wrong step could throw him off and a bad landing from this height could seriously injure him. I had to remind myself that these guys had been doing this sort of thing for a while now. I was the new one to it. The thought calmed me a little, but I still gasped when he suddenly disappeared from my view. I craned my neck to watch as he gracefully plummeted towards the surface of the water. He made impact, disappeared for a moment, and then broke through the uneven surface once more, a huge smile visible even from this height.

They all took turns, one by one, and each time they disappeared over the side, my heart jumped a little. I couldn't picture my grandma doing anything like this. I was nervous just watching other people do it.

Soon, the boys were putting their clothes back on. Their reasonably dry shirts clung to them awkwardly.

"So, did you have fun watching us, or were you bored out of your mind?" Adam asked, walking up to sit by me.

"Bored? Not even," I replied.

"Does that mean you would want to try it next time?"

"Not really," I answered with a smile. "My nerves were stressed enough just watching you guys."

He scoffed at the idea. "We've done this a ton of times."

"I know, but I'm still new to it."

He agreed with a nod. "Well," he sighed, "we better get you back. No reason for Jacob to be worrying about you."

"What a responsible person you are," I smiled, "except for the whole 'flinging yourself from a cliff' thing."

"I try," he laughed.

I said goodbye to the other guys with the promise of coming down to see them next weekend.

Adam walked me down to my grandpa's house, talking the entire time about things I'd missed while I had been away. I felt a longing to turn back time, just so I could experience the things I should have. Regardless, it was good to hear stories about what trouble the boys could get into when together.

"I'll see you next weekend?" he asked as we reached Grandpa Jacob's door.

"Yes, next weekend."

"Good," he said with a smile. He turned quickly, but I still saw a look on his face that filled me with guilt. It was a look that was utterly too hopeful and eager. Even as I called my mom to come pick me up, I was still thinking about that look.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter has been edited slightly. Thanks for reading and please REVIEW!


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own this plot. Oh and Wuthering Heights is Emily Bronte's masterful creation which I briefly quote in this chapter.

Chapter 6: Confidante

* * *

_April 23__rd__, 2006_

_My sentence is over! To celebrate, Jacob and I are going to the movies. I made sure to invite Angela so it wouldn't be as awkward. Jake still insists he's not giving up any time soon. I just hope he'll move on when he realizes I can never be anything more than friends with him. Yes, he fixes the hole in me, but it's like trying to fit in a piece of the puzzle that almost works but doesn't quite fall into place. I know that I will always love _him_ no matter what, even though he never loved me._

It was getting easier—reading my Grandma's journal, that is. The little that I was able to get from my grandpa helped immensely. She was obviously talking about the boyfriend that broke her heart.

So I had been right, all along. There was a part of her heart that didn't belong to Grandpa, but to some man that she had loved and lost, yet still loved. Discovering a piece to the puzzle didn't relieve me, like I thought it would. Knowing why she seemed so tormented should help me understand the rest of her journal, right? But now I found myself wondering why this boyfriend left her. Why couldn't she let go of him? How did she end up with Grandpa if she still loved this boy? New questions forming in my mind made my head spin. The mystery that seemed to be coming together was only now showing its true form.

"Becca, time for dinner!" I closed the journal, although I had been planning to read the next entry, still dated the 23rd, hoping to find out what happened at the movies. The journal and the mystery, as usual, would have to wait.

"Set the table, honey," my mother asked as soon as I made it to the kitchen. I quickly did so and sat in my proper seat, waiting for my parents to do the same. Just as we had started eating, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I said, pushing myself away from the table.

I opened the door and was shocked to see a very wet Adam Clearwater. "Hey, Rae," he flashed a smile and looked past me to my dad who had just walked into the hall. "Hey, Joshua. I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he added, looking again to me.

"We were just sitting down to dinner," my dad began to explain when my mother walked in.

"Adam, darling!" She threw her arms open and enveloped him in a huge hug. I hung my head in embarrassment. "Let me take a good look at you." She stood back, taking him in. "You look…big," was all she could say.

"I've grown since the last time you saw me," he said, smiling.

"Of course, of course," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. Her short attention span didn't let her worry over his current size for too long. "Oh, Adam, you have to eat dinner with us! We have plenty, and a boy your size has to be hungry all the time." She was already ushering him into the kitchen before he could say no—if he was going to say no.

I cringed, waiting by the open door, not wanting to believe this was happening. Every time he looked at me, I had this horrible feeling that he was expecting something from me, and I had no idea what it was.

"Becca?" My dad had paused at the end of the hallway, obviously waiting for me to follow. I sighed and closed the door, hoping Adam's reason for coming here had nothing to do with me.

Of course, as soon as I sat down, Adam turned his attention to me, questioning about my day, about school, and whether I still planned on going down to the reservation that weekend.

I answered accordingly, but threw in a comment about not being sure whether I could make it down on the weekend. In the back of my mind, I was making plans to visit the strange, white house again.

He immediately looked disappointed, but cleared his face when my mom started questioning about his life.

Dinner was painful and I practically swallowed my food whole—a pity since it was my favorite—just to speed the process along. My parents and Adam were having none of that, though, taking their sweet time eating and talking. My mom even brought up the topic of past girlfriends, to which he replied that he hadn't dated. My face reddened as my mother started discussing Jesse and the "new, blossoming relationship" we had.

"Mother!" I hissed, my foot itching to kick her chair. Have I mentioned my mother's ability to take hints? Oh, that's right, she doesn't have any.

"What, Becca? Are you embarrassed talking about you and Jesse? You really shouldn't be, I walked in on you kissing him last week." My dad choked on a rather long piece of asparagus, and my face continued to turn a frightening shade of maroon. Adam, I noticed finally, seemed to have stopped smiling and was instead staring at the refrigerator where we had started putting up pictures again.

"I'm actually done with dinner," I said quietly, still mortified. I quickly cleaned off my plate and let it clatter into the sink. _Please just let me go. Please don't follow me. _I repeated the mantra until I reached the stairs. Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Becca, wait." Adam stood there, waiting for me to turn and face him. But I wasn't ready to face him, my embarrassment still noticeable by the faint blush on my cheeks. "I just wanted to know what you were doing this weekend. You said you might not be able to make it over, but you didn't say why."

I turned, finally, and stared at him for a moment. His wide, dark eyes pierced straight through me, just as they had all the years I had known him. I had trusted him then, why couldn't I trust him now? Could he keep a secret from his friends and more importantly my parents and grandpa? The thought of the house becoming a public place, or even worse, forbidden, made me strangely uncomfortable.

"If I tell you where I'm going, will you promise not to say anything to anyone?"

"Is it illegal?" His eyes flashed with excitement.

"Not exactly, but it is secret, and I could probably get in trouble for going there…a lot of trouble even," I saw the excitement grow in his expression and knew I had him hooked.

"I swear I won't tell anyone. You have my word." His voice and the sincerity in his eyes showed me he was telling the truth.

"Alright, then. Meet me here Saturday morning." He nodded once. "We're going for a little run," I added with a grin.

"You're not going to tell me?" he asked, his mouth turning downwards into a frown.

"Where's all the fun if it's not a surprise?" I quipped as I led him to the door. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth was set in a straight line. I pulled him close once we were outside. "You won't tell _anyone_?" I asked seriously.

"No one," he replied in earnest.

I pulled him into a hug which he returned eagerly. "I trust you," I whispered into his ear. As his arms tightened, my guilt flourished inside me. I broke away quickly, but forced a small smile as I walked back inside and closed the door.

Yes, I was using him. His obvious attraction for me made it easy to gain his trust. But I felt guilty giving him false hopes. He heard what my mother said about me and Jesse. Did he think he could win me over by being my confidante? Or did he think he already was in my favor since I was letting him in on the secret instead of Jesse?

Was he in my favor? I couldn't process that question. And yet my brain was forcing me to dwell on it. My mother had brought my boyfriend up in conversation, but what I hadn't told her was that Jesse and I hadn't spoken in almost four days. Not that I wasn't _trying_ to talk to him. He ignored my phone calls and avoided me in the halls. All the signs were pointing to an imminent break up. The strange thing was I wasn't worried about it. With my friends' constant warnings, I'd come to acknowledge the fact that something might happen. Plus, the journal was slowly beginning to dominate all of my time and energy. On top of school work, I wasn't sure I had time for a boyfriend.

I took a long shower, using as much hot water as possible to relieve my tension and troubled thoughts. After, I brushed through my long, dark brown hair and braided it, still thinking about the situation with Adam and the very possible break up with Jesse.

Unable to let myself dwell on it any more, I picked up a book I had borrowed from my grandpa's house. It was another one of my grandma's—I couldn't pick up _Pride and Prejudice _after the incident at the house. It was so tattered and worn, I was sure there were pages missing, but I was unwilling to go and buy myself a new copy. I set it on the bed and let it open randomly to a page. I was surprised to see pen underlining a long quote and smudges in the ink, indicating it was wet somehow, tears maybe.

"…_he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."_

The last three words were underlined so heavily, the pen tore a hole through to the other side. I flipped the page, knowing the scene well, curious to see whether she had underlined any more. Sure enough, the next page was underlined as well.

"_My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods; time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath--a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind."_

Perplexed, I set the book aside, too tired to think about what it could mean. Making a mental note to come back to it later, I picked up the journal and opened to the next entry.

_April 23__rd__, 2006_

_Jacob is infuriating! The movie was a disaster even with Angela—oh, poor Angela!_

_Jacob kissed me. KISSED ME! A night that was supposed to be about my freedom from the house was, in his mind, a date! What's worse is that I overreacted and ran out. He, of course, followed me, leaving poor Angela in the theater by herself._

_He doesn't understand why I can't be with him. I can't understand why I actually want to. This night was a disaster. I'll have to remember to apologize profusely—grovel if I have to—to Angela tomorrow._

I almost laughed when I finished. Even though Grandma Bella was furious when she wrote it, it was funny to think of Grandpa putting the moves on her and getting rejected. It was what I needed to take my mind off of everything that had happened that night. I turned off my lamp and closed my eyes.

* * *

I ran to the door after quickly throwing my hair up in a bun. Adam stood on my porch with tired looking eyes but a bright smile.

"Tired?" I asked playfully.

"It's 6:30 a.m.," he said rubbing his eyes. "Ask me in a couple hours when I wake up."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him inside. I was anxious to get there, but there were things we needed to cover first.

"Did you bring it?" I asked quietly. My parents were still asleep.

He pulled a bag off his back and opened it. "Yes," he answered as I looked inside.

"Good," I nodded. "Let me run upstairs and grab some other things, and then we can go." His head bobbed once as he sat in the chair near the door, leaning his head back against the wall.

His actions mirrored my feelings, but I was too worried about this trip to show it. It had been a long week. Friday morning had rolled around, and I still had no word from Jesse. At lunch, I made my way to my table where Erica was already sitting. Danni came shortly after, and broke the news to me. Jesse was seen with Amy Crowley. 'Locked in some sort of fight to the death for each other's tonsils,' as Danni put it. That afternoon, I called him and calmly told him that I knew, and we had no business going out anymore. Okay, maybe I threw in a few choice words for Danni, who had wanted to tell the world exactly where he should go and how she would get him there.

The truth was it was a relief to know he was cheating on me. I didn't want to wait for him to break up with me and this way it was quick and pain—well, no, it wasn't _painless_, but at least it was over. It was one less thing to worry about.

I took the stairs two at a time, skipping the top step—the only one that creaked loud enough to wake my parents—and hurried to my room. I reached in my purse and found what I wanted—a can of pepper spray. I was still spooked from the last trip there, and human or beast, wouldn't the pepper spray work the same? I wasn't sure, but it was worth it to bring it just in case.

I turned to leave the room when I saw something at the last second. The copy of _Wuthering Heights _was sitting on my night stand, a piece of paper sticking out, marking the part my grandma had underlined. I grabbed it, still working through my logic as I did. If someone had picked up the book I had brought the last time, maybe I should bring another one, to duplicate the scenario.

I quickly made it back downstairs. I scribbled a short note to my parents, telling them I was running with Adam and didn't know when I'd be back, but not to worry.

I then threw the extra things I'd grabbed from my room into Adam's bag. "Ready to go?" I asked him.

He stood up and stretched. "Ready as I'll ever be." He followed me out the front door and onto the street.

"You actually meant it when you said we'd be running there, didn't you?" he asked incredulously as we passed his car.

"You didn't believe me?" I laughed.

He shrugged and set the pace, the sound of our feet flowing in and out of rhythm. We didn't talk, but I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"How far is 'a little run'?" he asked after three miles. I had to give him credit. He didn't sound winded at all and he was barely sweating. I, on the other hand, probably looked terrible.

"Just a little farther," I told him, concentrating more on the road ahead of me. If I didn't pay attention, I'd miss the overgrown driveway. After a few more yards, I spotted it.

The driveway was just as long as I remembered and there were no new signs of traffic, to which I breathed a sigh of relief. We slowed down when we reached the huge cedar trees leading to the house.

"What is this place?" Adam wondered aloud.

"Just a place I found," I said smiling. "It's abandoned as far as I can tell. I just wanted to explore it a bit more."

Realization dawned on his face. "You want to…break into _this_ house? Becca, that's insane! It's got to have an alarm or something—"

I stopped him midsentence and pointed to the broken window. "No alarm."

His face was still uneasy. "Oh, come on, Adam. You had to know what I wanted to do when I asked you to bring a lock picking kit!"

"I don't know! I didn't think we'd be breaking into a mansion!"

"Trust me, Adam. This place hasn't been opened up in years…decades I'd say."

"I just don't—"

"Come on," I said over my shoulder, already leading the way to the front porch, "where's your sense of adventure?"

He smiled, the excitement resurfacing in his eyes, and followed.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter has been edited to flow better with the rest of the story. Please review and let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie owns Twilight.

Chapter 7: Reminisce

* * *

Breaking in was fairly easy. Adam had picked up a lock picking kit at the hardware store, and the front door had only a basic deadbolt. It took him a few tries, but after a minute we heard the audible click signifying our success.

I held my breath as he slowly opened the door. I knew there wasn't an alarm. The broken window was an obvious reminder that someone else had been here and had gotten away with it. But I was still nervous as the wide door slowly swung open, revealing the secrets within.

The inside was cavernous. Walls had obviously been removed to give a more spacious feeling but the lack of furniture only made it seem more abandoned. I marveled at what the house could have been in its better days.

"Becca," Adam breathed as I strode further into the house. I turned to look at him. His eyes were flickering around the open floor, never settling for more than a moment. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this. What if it has some sort of silent alarm? What if—"

"Adam, first of all, totally cliché…you have a 'bad feeling about this?' I feel like I'm walking into a bad horror movie. This is the part where the bloodthirsty killer comes, right?" He rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. "And second of all, you're probably right…or at least you _should_ be. A house like this should be a fortress. But I'm getting the feeling that not a lot of people know this house is here."

"And why are _we_ here again?"

"You really have no sense of adventure, do you? I'm ashamed to even be seen with you." His lips turned downward as his marched up next to me. "Good boy. Now, come," I said, leading him away from the door.

"I'm not a dog," I heard him grumble.

The house was enormous—three stories of windows and rooms big enough to swallow my room at home whole. After investigating, it was obvious that whoever had lived here had no intention of returning. Dust, inches thick, was settled on the banister and not one piece of furniture remained to show when last the house was occupied.

"We've looked around. There's nothing to find. Can we please get out of here now?" Adam pleaded. It was shocking to see cool, calm, and collected Adam Clearwater so antsy about the house. As we walked around back to the tree I'd dubbed as my spot weeks before, I confronted him about his fear.

"Why were you so anxious to get out of there?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment, struggling with the answer. "Don't you feel like…" He sighed and started over. "It reminds you a little of the legends, doesn't it?"

His question startled me. I sat down at the tree and he took a seat next to me. What did he mean? How did this house remind him of the legends? I thought back to my childhood, sitting around bonfires with my grandparents and others from the reservation. Stories of our ancestry swirled with tales of vampires and wars ran through my mind.

Adam must have noticed my puzzled expression and decided it was time to jog my memory. "The stories about the cold ones that lived near the reservation. The ones that weren't like the others because they hunted differently. They made a treaty with our ancestors so they were allowed to stay…"

"They lived in a huge white house outside of the neighboring town," I finished for him. It gave me goose bumps to recall those stories, mostly because he was right—the house fit too perfectly with the tales we were told as children. "Yeah, I guess it does seem a little coincidental. But those were just stories, right?"

"Yeah…" He seemed reluctant to agree. His eyes suddenly brightened again. "Remember when we were kids and we used to pretend those legends were true?"

"And you'd always be the leader of the pack!" I chimed in. "Which always made me so angry because technically _I_ should have been the leader! But no, I wasn't allowed because I was a girl."

His laugh was loud and contagious. "Yeah, I remember. You'd stamp your foot and give me a huge lecture on how you were the direct descendant of the last chief. God, I hated that speech."

I rolled my eyes and threw a twig at him. "You were just threatened because you knew I had awesome leadership skills."

"As if," he scoffed. His voice was more reminiscent when he continued. "Great Aunt Leah would always break up the fights saying girls were every bit as powerful as boys."

"What a wise woman she was," I said cracking a smile.

It was hard not feeling happy when Adam was around. It was so like it used to be when we were kids, not a care in the world. Of course, as a kid he always annoyed the hell out of me, but that was irrelevant now. Because I could look back and still see how included he made me feel and how fiercely he protected me from all the dangers of the world, even as young as we were. Even if I wasn't the leader of the pack—I rolled my eyes internally thinking about it—he still included me in every game they played.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was leaning his head against the tree, his dark eyelashes resting gracefully against his russet skin. When we were younger, I used to complain about how light my skin was and how unfair it was that he could be tan all the time. Looking at him now, it wasn't so much that he was tan, but more like he was glowing. I was still jealous.

He cracked an eye and glanced my way, catching me staring. "What?" he asked, a smile stretched his lips upward.

"Nothing," I said, turning my head away before he could notice my blush. I dug through the bag we brought and found my book. It was a perfect distraction from the embarrassed, warm feeling I got when he smiled at me.

I opened to the page my grandma had marked, still not understanding what was so significant about the scene.

"What book is that?" Adam asked, though his eyes weren't even looking at the book in my hands.

I began feeling hot under his gaze again. "Uh…" I stuttered ungracefully, "_Wuthering Heights_."

"I read that for an English project once," he stated, breaking our eye contact. "That's the one where they love each other but he leaves her and she ends up with that other guy and the first guy comes back and the chick dies and haunts him, right?"

I stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. Even if he totally butchered the essence of the book, the fact that he read it was surprising.

"Don't look at me like that, I had to read British literature, and the title didn't seem too bad, so I picked it." I rolled my eyes. Of course that's how a boy would pick a book.

I glanced once more at the page when Adam's horrid yet mostly accurate summary replayed in my mind. '_He leaves her and she ends up with that other guy…'_

"Wow, I'm stupid," I muttered out loud. My epiphany wasn't grand or awe inspiring. It just made me feel like a complete fool. Here I was, wondering how this scene was important to my grandma's life, when it was staring right back at me from the pages!

This boyfriend of hers captured her heart completely and when he left, she chose to be with another. Not that her love for the first man had changed at all, but she decided to act on whatever feelings she had for my grandpa. This news wasn't shocking to me. After all, Grandpa Jacob had just told me the story of the first boyfriend. But seeing the correlation between the book and her real life made it feel like she had left more clues for me than I thought.

Adam looked confused. I just shook my head. "Something about my grandma I just realized." He accepted my explanation and turned his gaze toward the forest before us.

I don't know how long we sat there, me reading and him staring ahead, playing with blades of grass between his fingers, but it was comforting knowing that he didn't mind being here with me, sharing my secret.

The book slowly fell from my hands as my eyes drooped. I couldn't have been asleep for more than a moment when Adam jumped up, his eyes focused on the tree line.

"Did you see that?" he asked, pulling me to my feet.

"No, I must have fallen asleep. What did you see?"

"I'm…I'm not sure." His voice was uncertain as he tried to explain. "A flash of something just went through the trees. It was so…_fast_."

My thoughts immediately flashed to the first weekend I'd come here. The feeling of being watched and my fear after finding my book tampered with still fresh in my mind. Would this end up just like last time? I glanced at the book on the ground, suddenly formulating a plan in my mind.

"Let's go see what it was," I tried to make my voice sound excited instead of allowing the anxiety that gripped my stomach to be noticeable. He was about to say no—that much I could tell—so I just grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the trees. I glanced back once to the book, still lying on the ground, and hoped that this plan would work.

The forest was noticeably silent as we entered. Birds were mute for the most part, peeping once or twice to reassure each other and even the nearby river seemed quieted by the tension. The silence made me want to hold my breath, the drag of air into my lungs seeming too loud. My hand was slick against Adam's, but I refused to release my grip.

Even though I was leading, he was the first to stop. He placed a finger to his lips and both of our bodies froze, listening as hard as we could for something, anything at all. I felt like my heart would fly out of my chest, and I knew the hand Adam was holding was throbbing with my pulse. Could wild animals smell adrenaline? Or was it fear? Wasn't adrenaline caused by fear? I tried calming my erratic heartbeat, but it only seemed to have one speed.

As if by some silent force, my head slowly began turning towards the house. I pinpointed the tree we had sat under, not because it was an easy focal point, but because of the figure moving beneath it. My lungs failed as I tried to alert Adam. A faint choking sound escaped my lips, but my partner-in-crime seemed unaware of my discovery.

The person under the tree (it wasn't a wild animal, I was now one hundred percent positive) tensed and turned in our direction. We were too far away for me to see the face or even identify the gender, but I had the feeling this person could see us perfectly. My panicked mind kindly reminded me that the can of pepper spray I brought was still in Adam's bag…under the tree…within reach of the reason I'd brought it.

I watched, unsure if I should feel relieved or nervous, as they quickly turned away and walked to the front of the house, right out of my line of sight. It wasn't until I inhaled sharply that I realized I had been holding my breath at all.

Adam finally seemed to notice I wasn't paying attention to the forest anymore. "What is it, Becca? Did you see something?" He moved so he was standing in front of me, bending down to look into my eyes. He face creased with worry lines as he noticed my pale complexion and shocked expression. He lifted his free hand (his other was still tightly grasped in my own) to rest on my cheek. It was his warm touch that finally brought me out of my daze.

"I…I saw someone. Over there," I pointed to the house. "They left but…I think they saw us."

"Shit," he cursed, dragging me out of the woods. "I told you the house probably had an alarm!"

If possible, my heart accelerated even more as we approached the tree where I'd seen the figure. Adam grabbed the bag sitting there and quickly shoved my book inside. He grabbed my hand again and pulled me around the house and down the overgrown driveway.

"I'm surprised the cops aren't here," his rough voice barked as we ran along the road.

"I don't think it was a cop." It was the only thing I could think of to say.

"It must have been the owners or something then. The house must not be as abandoned as you thought it was."

I thought his comment over. My instinct was telling me that house was long forgotten, but part of me was agreeing with him. Could I have been watched each time I'd come here? It made sense that this person had been the one that moved my book the first time, but why? Why did they wait until I was in the woods to come out? Why didn't they confront me? It didn't make sense.

* * *

We made it back to my house without being tracked down by cops or angry owners. I grabbed my belongings out of Adam's bag and waited for him to say something. His face seemed haggard, and his breathing was much more labored than it was when we made our trip that morning.

"Are you okay?" I asked, placing a hand on his arm. "God, Adam, you're burning up!" I reached up to feel his forehead. It was scorching. I was warmed from the run too, but not like he was. "Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm feeling…weird," was all he said in reply. I watched with concern as he walked towards his car. "I think I'm gonna go home. Thanks for the adventure." His smile was weak.

"Should you be driving?" I sounded like a worried mother.

"I think I'll make it," he retorted, rolling his eyes, obviously trying his hardest to act normal.

"Call me later," I said, still worried about his sudden change.

"Yeah," his tone was dismissive. "Bye."

I watched him drive away, my book and pepper spray clutched tightly to my chest. Once again I was alone with my secrets and mysteries. Adam's comforting presence throughout the day was accentuated by his sudden departure. The stress of the day returned with a vengeance as if he'd been the one warding it off.

I walked into the house, not completely shocked to find that I was alone. My parents were no doubt running errands or hanging out at my grandpa's. A note on the fridge confirmed it. I ran to my room and grabbed my cell phone, checking for messages or missed calls. '_Don't lie to yourself, Becca. You just want _him_ to talk to you.'_

As if hearing my thoughts, my phone beeped with a new text message.

_I'm home. What are you doing?_

Oh you know, the usual. Freaking out about the crime we just committed. Hoping I'm not being stalked. Figuring out how I feel about you.

_Nothing really_, I replied.

It didn't take long for my phone to beep again.

_Sorry I just bailed on you like that. I bet you're freaking out._

_How did you know? By the way, I hope you feel better._

_I just know you. Thanks, I'm feeling a little better already. My grandpa is acting really strange though._

_Huh, what's his problem? Sooo, will I see you tomorrow? I promise no breaking and entering this time._

After I sent the message I immediately felt stupid. I sounded way too desperate for his company again. I waited for a response for a few minutes, but nothing came. It made me feel even worse. '_He's probably freaked out by your criminal tendencies,'_ I told myself, shaking my head.

I spent the rest of my day doing nothing in particular, trying desperately not to think about Adam or what had happened earlier. I wasn't much of a TV person but I found myself entranced with a show on the Discovery Channel. The scene playing before me was that of a pack of wolves taking down a caribou. Teeth bared, growls ripping from their throats, they seemed like unstoppable forces of nature. The show became a little graphic for me as they began tearing the poor animal apart. I turned it off and contemplated what I should do next.

It was night already and I hadn't eaten all day, so I wandered to the pantry to look for something. The note on the fridge warned me not to expect my parents home until late, so I wasn't worried about feeding them. As I settled down with a plate of some warmed up leftovers, I heard my phone beep. I ran (a little too eagerly) to see who it was.

_Sorry, tomorrow's not good._

_Oh, maybe next weekend then?_ I tried to swallow my disappointment. His reply was immediate.

_Next weekends not good either. Sorry._

His sudden change in attitude was surprising. I couldn't help but let myself wallow in disappointment. Maybe I'd been a little too trusting in him. No longer interested in my dinner, I crawled into my bed and turned off the light.

'_Serves you right.'_

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter has been fixed! Please review!

My reasoning to why the Cullen's old house would not have an alarm: Number one, they are vampires. They could hear someone coming, Edward would hear their thoughts, or Alice would see them. There is no element of surprise, so therefore, no burglaries. Number two, their house is extremely well hidden. Number three, I would imagine they would've taken anything and everything out of the house if they were planning on staying away for any amount of time (forever, if Edward has any say in it). Number four, it's my story, and I say so! :)


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The world of Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

**A/N**: A (slightly) faster update for you guys because, let's face it, sitting without power for 4 days gives you a lot of time to do other things (like write). I survived the blackout of '08! Now, I realize that the blackout was a few weeks ago, but I had some trouble with getting this chapter right. But now I feel satisfied with it and I hope you like it too!

Chapter 8: Promises

* * *

My week was beginning to look a lot like hell. If it weren't for the occasional perks like Lucky Charms and reruns of my favorite show, I would have guessed I was already there. Not only was Adam ignoring me, but I was falling behind in most of my classes, too caught up in the weekend's turn of events. Homework was coming back with way too many points missing and teachers were starting to give me 'the look.' You know, the one where they stare at you uncomfortably with expression that says 'either you're on drugs or your parents are going through a rough patch.' I half expected at least one of them to come up and ask me if I needed to see the councilor.

And if I got one more text from Adam saying that he was _sorry_ or _busy_, I was going to scream. What was his deal? And why did I care so much? I knew the answer to that, but I refused to acknowledge it.

Thursday morning rolled around with no sign of improvement. My eyes were heavy from lack of sleep. Staying up all night worrying about whether a boy will ever decide to start talking to you again is a bad idea. Don't do it. Seriously. I didn't want to admit I was one of those girls who obsessed over a guy until he drove her mad, but it was starting to look like I fit the description.

My parents were sitting at the kitchen table when I walked—more like plodded or thumped—down the stairs. Their heads were close as they discussed something that seemed fairly important.

"I don't think it's a good idea," my dad warned.

My mother shook her head, her chocolate hair bouncing. "She's seventeen, Josh. She can handle—"

"What can I handle?" I asked, announcing my presence. Both heads turned in my direction, my father's disgruntled and my mother's with a smug smile on her face.

"Your father and I decided—"

"We haven't decided anything, yet," my father insisted.

"We've decided," my mother continued, "that you are fully capable of staying and watching the house next week while we go finalize the sale of the old one."

"You're leaving me here?"

"Oh, honey, not that you can't stay at your grandpa's if you want to. It's your choice. We just figured you didn't want to miss school." I wanted to argue that every kid would _want_ to miss school, but then again, I didn't want to travel in the car with my parents for any length of time.

"I—" My mind suddenly grasped onto what my mother had just said. I could stay with my grandpa. As in, I could stay in La Push. Near Adam. "I think that's a great idea. I can handle it." My mother's smile was instant, as was my father's scowl.

"Of course," I added, trying to please them both, "I can always go to Grandpa's if I change my mind." My father's expression relaxed and I knew I'd won them both.

School was tolerable after that. I just kept reminding myself that I could confront Adam soon enough. Not that my concentration was any better in class. I would have to work extra hard to bring up the grades I'd gotten this past week.

When I got home from school on Friday, there was a strange car parked in the driveway. Some sort of old Chevy or Subaru or something, I wasn't sure. I wasn't a car person.

"Mom, I'm home!" I yelled, as was my routine, though she could probably hear the bus as it went by. But it was a habit that I'd started when I first began school and I didn't feel like changing.

"Honey, your grandpa stopped by!" my mom gushed as she rounded the corner from the kitchen and all but skipped up to me. My grandpa appeared right behind her. "He has something to tell you!"

"Rebecca," Grandpa Jake said warmly, wrapping me in a tight hug. His cheek was pressed against my forehead like a mother does to judge a child's temperature. His expression was worried for a moment as he pulled away, almost confused, but he hid it quickly. "Feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Adam was…sick. I was just wondering if you caught the same thing." He tripped slightly over his words and my suspicion grew.

"Well," I sniffed in disdain, "Adam isn't really talking to me at the moment. I wouldn't know anything about him being sick."

A flash of understanding in my grandfather's eyes proved that he knew what was going on. _'Patience,'_ I told myself. _'You'll find out for yourself soon enough.'_

"So what did you have to tell me?"

"See the car outside?" he asked, pointing through the window to the unknown vehicle in the driveway.

"Yes. Is it yours?"

"Not exactly," he smiled and glanced at my mom who nodded and grinned enthusiastically. "It's yours."

I'm not slow. I promise I'm not. Nor am I dense…usually. But for the life of me, I couldn't process his words correctly. The car…was mine? As in, I could drive it? All by myself? Without my parents warning me they needed it in a few hours, thus cutting my plans short?

"Rebecca, close your mouth," Grandpa said with an amused grin.

My jaw snapped shut quickly only to be opened again to express the idea I couldn't process. "Mine?" I glanced at my mom once for confirmation. She smiled even wider (which for her, at that point, was a feat). She reminded me of a bobble-head with all the nodding she was doing.

"Grandpa…I…thank you!" I squealed, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.

"You're welcome. I had a few boys at the garage fix it up. It drives like it's brand new." He smiled, and I knew it was because he was glad the garage he'd started up in his youth was in good hands.

"Wait until your dad gets home!" my mother clapped excitedly.

"He doesn't know?" I wondered aloud.

"Oh, he knows about the car. He just didn't know it would be finished so soon. That's why he was so worried about leaving you here alone. What if you needed to drive to the store? Or were sick and needed to go to the doctor's? Now he won't have to worry anymore! Isn't it wonderful, darling?"

I nodded sincerely. It would definitely help my plans of confronting Adam. I wouldn't have to depend on my grandpa, who couldn't drive very well, to come pick me up when I'd inevitably become too scared to stay home alone. I'd wait until Tuesday or Wednesday and then show up without notice. That way Adam wouldn't have any warning.

"Why don't you drive your grandpa home, Becca," my mom suggested, interrupting my planning.

Grandpa Jacob looked uncomfortable but resigned. How else would he get home? "I'd love to," my smile most likely resembled that of the Cheshire cat. Maybe the confrontation would come sooner than expected.

The ride back to the rez was silent, and not exactly the comfortable type. I cleared my throat and tried to start a conversation. "Any good football games lately?" I asked, immediately slapping myself mentally. How would I be able to keep up a conversation about sports?

Thankfully, his reply was nothing but a short grunt. The silence resumed for a few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open his mouth and close it again as if he were struggling for words. He turned his head to me, and I tilted my head to indicate I knew he had something to say.

"Rebecca, I just wanted to warn you that sometimes, when you go looking for trouble it has a way of finding you."

His words jogged my memory. A last letter from my grandma, warning me that with my genes, trouble would come running to me. Her hopes that I would understand her life someday, and her regret that she couldn't tell me about it herself. I had read the letter so many times, I had memorized every detail, every crease of the paper and every curve to her handwriting, all in hopes I could keep all that was left of her alive.

It was so odd that my grandpa would say the same thing to me now. Now that I was getting deeper into the mystery of my grandma's journal.

"Why do you say that, Grandpa?"

"Adam told me about the house—"

"He WHAT?" I screeched, whipping my head to look at him. Thank goodness we had just reached his house, and the car was completely in park, because we probably would've been off-roading by now.

"He didn't have a choice, Rebecca. He had to answer to the…the elders."

"He had a choice. His choice was that he promised _me_ he wouldn't tell _anyone_!" I seethed. I was gonna kill that boy when I got my hands on him!

"Calm down. He couldn't lie to us. He tried, Rebecca, believe me."

I was past listening. "Bye, Grandpa. See you later." His face crumpled a little and I could see he was hurt by my cold attitude. "Thanks for the car," I added with a small, forced smile. He nodded once to show he understood and made his way up to his house.

The drive back to my house was short. Too short for me to calm down and present myself in front of my parents. The slamming of doors was probably enough to warn them I was in no mood to talk.

I grabbed the journal from under my bed and flipped open to the next entry.

_April 30__th__, 2006_

_I haven't talked to Jake since the kissing incident. Not that it's hurting him very much. He seems all too pleased with himself, really. I feel like I'm only hurting myself by not talking to him. I can't make up my mind. I feel like I'm making him lose out on a real relationship. Someone he can love and who will love him back just as much. He seems content though knowing I can't give him everything I have. He just doesn't realize that I don't have a lot left._

_Even though I'm ignoring him, I can't escape. He comes over with Billy to watch the games with Charlie and just sits there watching me. Watching me and smiling. It's infuriating! He isn't just at my house to annoy me, though he's doing a good job. Victoria is becoming more persistent and the pack isn't able to keep track of her at all times. Sam feels better knowing I'm watched 24/7. The rocking chair that used to be filled with another person at night is now filled with my overgrown best friend. When will this all end? Will I still be alive?_

I sighed in frustration. This would all be so much easier if my grandpa would tell me who Victoria was and didn't leave anything out. Obviously my grandma was scared for her own life and Grandpa was protecting her, but how dangerous could this Victoria be? Shouldn't they've just called the cops? Wait, my great grandpa _was _a cop. Why didn't they just tell him what was going on?

There was something that Grandpa was hiding. Or at least trying his hardest to avoid telling me. Well, I was going to find out, whether he liked it or not. I mentally added his name to the list of confrontations, second priority to Adam of course.

The thought of confronting Adam was causing my stomach to churn. What if he genuinely didn't like me? What if he did? What if he wasn't ignoring me, and I was just making a mountain out of a mole hill? What if he got mad because I was accusing him? What if he didn't want to be my friend anymore?

The last question worried me more than the rest. He was the missing link to my past, the piece of the puzzle that connected me to where I belonged. I had my grandpa, but how long would it be until he followed Grandma? And then who would I have? Sure, Adam and I hadn't been reunited for long, but the few times we spent together were the best I'd had thus far in this rainy little town.

Could I lose that soon?

"Becca? Can you run to the store for a few things?" my mother called from downstairs. I still wasn't in the mood, but decided to make her happy anyway. Maybe getting out of the house would help me clear my mind and stop worrying.

"Sure. What do you need?"

She handed me a folded piece of paper, a list I assumed, and smiled tentatively. I quickly left, wanting to avoid any questions about my mood.

The store wasn't crowded at this time of night. A few cars were scattered across the parking lot, my guess was most belonged to employees. It was close to closing so I'd have to hurry to get everything on the list.

I skirted past the clothing section and was heading through the sporting goods when I ran into something…or someone, I should say. He was more like a mountain than a man, though. His muscles were thick and bulging, and it felt like I had run into a brick wall instead of a person. _'This guy must work out every single day of his life!'_

"Oh, sorry," he said with a smile, looking down at me. His smile was brief, though, replaced with a look of confusion. "Bel—"

"Come on, let's hurry up. The store is closing," another man said, walking up to stand beside the mountain. His eyes followed the direction of his companion's, settling on me. I noticed the same curious scrutiny as the first guy.

It was as they were staring at me (I, of course, was staring back) that I was able to get a good look at them. Never before had I seen people so perfect—so beautiful—in my entire life. _'They must be brothers,'_ I mused. Not that they looked alike—one brunette, the other blonde—but I couldn't help but notice similarities. Both had pale, flawless skin and the same color of golden eyes.

The blonde one lifted a brow at me, as if to question why I was still standing there. I was questioning myself too—it was like I was entranced by them. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and mumbled an apology, quickly moving back towards the doors I came from.

"Yeah, camping supplies," I heard the mountain remind himself as I walked away. I looked over my shoulder at the pair. Both were watching me, still curious, still scrutinizing. The blonde looked to his brother and asked him a question. The man's huge shoulders moved up and down quickly in a shrug. They turned their gazes back to me again. I blushed and started walking faster.

Once I was in my car and had it started, I paused for a breath. My hands shook with adrenaline, and I wasn't sure why. I felt the same as when I had discovered someone watching me at the house.

I made it home and walked into the kitchen where my mother was seated, clipping coupons. She noticed my empty hands and my flushed cheeks and raised an eyebrow, questioning me.

"I got there but they were closing. I'll go tomorrow if you want."

"That's fine, honey." She gazed directly into my eyes for a moment as if to tell me she knew I wasn't telling the truth, and then went back to clipping coupons. "Night, darling."

"Goodnight, mom."

I crawled under the covers without even taking my clothes off. I lay, staring into the dark, thinking about the embarrassing scene at the store. It wasn't long, though, before my thoughts turned back to Adam (of course) and how alone I felt without his friendship.

As if to match my mood, the silence was broken by a long, mournful howl of a lone wolf off in the distance. He cried for a few minutes before his call was answered by another howl, and another—a chorus of wolves singing to the night.

"At least you're not lonely anymore," I whispered, fighting back tears.

* * *

**A/N: **It's my birthday! And consider this chapter my gift to you! A note: I have never been in Forks Outfitters so I have no clue what the layout in the store is like. I made all of that up.

You've gotten your first taste of vampires, up close and personal, in this story. How did you like it?

Please review! It's my birthday (and that was the guilt trip method!)


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: Without the great Stephenie Meyer, where would I get my inspiration?

Chapter 9: Alone

* * *

"Oh dear, I'm not finished packing!" my mother said as she flew past me on the stairs. Saturday morning had started with a whirlwind of activity: my mother of course was unprepared for their road trip.

It was amusing to watch her run around, grab something, set it down somewhere, then spend the next five minutes searching for it again. "Mom, do you need help?" I asked with a laugh.

"Oh Becca, please!" She handed me the list of groceries I had failed to get the night before. "I added some things I needed for the trip." Deodorant, contact solution, face wash. The list went on to name snacks that were probably worse for someone than stopping at McDonald's.

"Mom," I whined, wishing she had told me to help by looking for her bracelet (which I knew for a fact she'd set on the bookshelf in the living room), "couldn't you just, oh I don't know, stop on the way there?"

"Becca, there's no time. Now be a doll and hurry!" She dashed past me to the bookshelf and held the bracelet up in triumph. "Now where did I put that blouse?" she muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Try the bathroom!" I yelled, as I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

"What do you mean? I wouldn't have left it in the bath—thank you, honey!"

I rolled my eyes, knowing she would take another hour just to collect all of her belongings. My mother was a bit scatterbrained but in an endearing sort of way.

Forks Outfitters was bustling with life when I arrived. Mothers and daughters hurried through the produce section while grumpy men gravitated towards the sports area, still grumbling about being dragged away from their ESPN.

I paused at the entrance, the people behind me huffing indignant "excuse me's" as they brushed past. My eyes darted to the camping supply area searching for any unbelievably gorgeous yet intimidating men. Satisfied with the fat or balding (or in some cases, both) men gathering there, I made my way farther into the store to get the items my mother had so desperately wanted.

I didn't know why I was so worried about the men I'd seen the previous night. They didn't even say anything to me really, or do more than just look at me curiously. But something about them felt wrong, almost unnatural. It was the hair-raising feeling when you walk into a dark room, the same feeling I had when in the woods near the lonely white house. And while that feeling was telling me to run, I was sucked in, entranced by their perfect features. Sort of like those crazy tornado chasers. They know the danger of going too close, but they can't help but to watch in fascination as a house gets torn to bits.

My mother was less frenzied by the time I got back. She was still searching for her mascara which I found in the refrigerator while putting the groceries away.

"Oh, darling. Are you sure you'll be fine home alone for a week?" she fussed, brushing my long dark hair out of my face.

"Mom, I'll be fine. Really," I insisted.

My dad came down the stairs, ruffled my hair, and patted my mom's butt. Ugh. They were probably silently jumping for joy at the fact I wasn't coming. _'No, bad thoughts. Don't think them, Becca…Damn it.'_ My brain was not enjoying the idea of my parents hotel hopping for a week without any distractions.

I shuddered and grabbed a ho-ho before my mom could take the bag out to the car.

"Here's fifty dollars," my dad said, handing me a few bills. "Maybe you can invite a few friends over and have pizza." I didn't want to mention the only person I wanted to have over would most likely ignore my invitation. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" His eyes were full of fatherly concern.

"I wish people would stop asking me that!" I threw up my hands in frustration. "Go, I'll be fine. No parties or boys or staying up on school nights. Scouts honor."

My parents hugged me goodbye. My mother was a little tearful; goodbyes were always a bit hard on her, no matter how long the separation would be.

"We'll call when we get there!" my dad yelled out the window as they drove away.

"Finally," I sighed, closing the door. I grabbed my grandma's journal, a soda, and the previously snagged ho-ho and settled myself on the couch.

_May 14__th__, 2006_

_Graduation is looming closer and I haven't chosen where I want to go yet. College was always my second choice. I suppose I could always take a semester off and then decide. Not that I haven't been receiving acceptance letters. The problem is I haven't applied to these colleges. Dartmouth? Syracuse? Yale? Really? Does he think I won't notice? Or does he just expect me to be thankful for being a charity case? The only normal acceptance letter I received was from University of Washington, and I worked days on that essay. I drove to _their_ empty house and threw all of the unwanted acceptance letters through the broken window. Let him see I don't need any of his help._

My breath caught in the back of my throat. A broken window at a house? Could it be the same one? Could it possibly be true that her ex-love's house and the abandoned one I frequented were one and the same? It seemed fantastic and impossible, but my heart still jumped in my throat.

There hadn't been anything in the house. No papers, no sign of my grandma's vandalism other than the obviously shattered window. Someone had been back. Did he come back for her only to find she was happy with my grandpa?

Against my better judgment, I got in my car and drove the now familiar road to the house. If there was someone there, I'd just introduce myself and ask if they knew anything of the history. Nothing suspicious about that. Who would be crazy enough to break into a house and then come back to talk to the owners?

'_What about what Grandpa said?' _the more responsible side of me argued. I banished that thought easily. What my grandpa doesn't know won't hurt him, right? It was Adam's fault that everyone knew about the house anyway. The thought of him "telling on me" made me seethe. I pushed the gas pedal down just a little harder. Just a quick visit and no one would know any better.

The long driveway was actually harder to navigate with a car. Overgrown bushes and low-hanging branches scraped my doors, and I hoped there was no permanent damage. Grandpa would definitely notice any abuse to this particular car.

Finally, I caught a glimpse of the lonely white monstrosity through the primordial trees. The windows were dark, and no cars appeared to be in the driveway. I got out of my car cautiously, listening for any noises. I climbed the steps to the front door and knocked three times, loud enough that someone on the third floor would have heard me. Silence followed and I knocked again. When I was sure no one would answer, I tested the lock and froze. Adam and I had made sure to lock the door before we left, positive that everything was in the same state as when we arrived. Yet, when I tried the handle, the door swung open freely.

"Hello?" I attempted to announce my presence, but my voice was strangled. My first few steps into the house were small and cautious. It was almost dark outside, and it was difficult to see anything in the rising shadows.

Hello?" I called out again. Nothing. I slowly moved into the next room, the room with the broken window. There was nothing on the floor around it. Even in the gloom I could see that. I looked closer at the layer of dust coating the floor. With the last few rays of light, I noticed something. I bent down to study the slight inconsistency of the dust. In one spot it was thin and not as opaque as the rest around it. Something had sat here, more recently than anything else. Still, it had been years since whatever had been here (college acceptance letters?) had been moved.

This was the same house. I was sure of it. My mind reeled with the discovery. My grandma had been here, had possibly stood in the same place I was right now. The boy she loved had lived here and had taken her heart with him when he left.

I made my way back to the car and turned to look at the house. "Who do you belong to?" I asked out loud.

Suddenly a loud and terrifying howl ripped through the air, sounding as if it came from behind me. I whirled around, eyes scanning the driveway and the forest surrounding it. Was that something moving in the brush? Were those the glow of eyes watching me? My heart hammered as I stumbled against my car, reaching for the handle without taking my eyes off the greenery encasing me. I fumbled with my keys once inside and only stopped to breathe once the engine was running and all doors were locked.

I kept my eyes peeled for movement as I made my way back down the drive. At one point I saw a large shadow move farther into the woods. _'It's too big…and quick. It's probably just a deer,'_ I tried convincing myself.

I relaxed as soon as I made it home. Well, I relaxed as much as possible. With everything I'd just learned in the few short hours my parents had been gone, it was impossible to unwind. That and I had an eerie feeling that the eyes I thought I'd seen in the woods were still gazing at me unblinkingly from outside the window. I shook my head, trying to convince myself that I was just freaked out because my parents weren't home.

* * *

Monday came after what seemed like a lifetime. Both Saturday and Sunday night were filled with howls somewhere in the woods nearby. I'd make sure to tell my dad about the increasing wolf problem as soon as he got home. I wouldn't have to worry about it for the rest of the week. I made up my mind as I turned into the parking lot: I would drive to Grandpa's after school. I wasn't going to let Adam think he got away with telling everyone about our little adventure. If he thought he was in the clear, he had another thing coming.

"Becca!" a voice called from behind me. I turned to see Jesse Booker pushing his way through the student-filled parking lot. "Wait up!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned against my car. "What do you want, Jesse?" I asked when he got close enough. His hair was messy and face seemed haggard. I glanced to the arm he was favoring, a white cast peeking from under his sweatshirt.

"What happened?" I questioned, nodded my head toward his arm.

"Oh, I was camping with my parents near Mt. Baker. Broke my arm." As he kept rambling on about how the terrible accident had occurred, I started to tune him out. How easy it was to find him annoying once I was over his looks. "The closest hospital was in Monroe. It was such a long drive! Thank God Dr. Cullen was there. By 4 a.m. I was all patched up and out of there."

My brain snapped to attention. "Did you say Dr. Cullen?"

Jesse looked confused by my sudden outburst. "Yeah, I'm sure that was his name. I remember because my mom kept talking about him on the ride home. He was the only doctor on call. Why?"

"I don't know. The name just sounds familiar." Like an itch I couldn't scratch, the name tickled at my memory, just out of reach.

"Well, the reason I wanted to talk to you was because I wanted to apologize," he said, making his voice sound appropriately earnest and sincere. "I was stupid and I messed up and I just wanted you to know that I—"

"Amy Crowley broke up with you didn't she?" I choked back a laugh. Served him right for being a cheater.

"It's not just that," he started, his cheeks flaming unattractively.

"You need a date to prom?" I guessed and wasn't able to hold back the laugh that erupted at the hopeful look on his face.

"Sorry," I said, patting his shoulder. "I'm going in a group date…Amy Crowley invited me." It was a lie, but it was worth seeing his stunned expression before I turned towards my first class.

* * *

The driveway at my grandpa's was empty when I got there, but I could hear boisterous laughs coming from within. I opened the door cautiously to reveal a group of people, some I hadn't seen in years.

My grandpa turned to see who had arrived. His face dropped for a split second—just long enough for me to see—before he regained his composure. "Rebecca," he announced, opening his arms. The room was suddenly very quiet and very tense. All eyes were on me.

"Hi, Grandpa." I shuffled nervously into his arms. "Is this a bad time?" I whispered into his ear.

"No, of course not. You all remember Rebecca?" he asked, turning his attention to the group crowding his living room.

Dan and Connor were sitting on the floor beside the couch. They nodded their heads in my direction, both flashing tense smiles. Dan seemed older than normal, as if he was suddenly years beyond his twin.

I noticed Henry Call sitting close to his grandfather. Evan Ateara, the youngest in the room, sat next to the Calls. Everyone, young and old, was staring at me.

"Hi." I managed to sound calm, though their intense stares were unnerving me. I felt as if I'd just grown two heads or started talking in foreign tongues. It wasn't exactly the 'welcome back' I'd imagined.

I turned back to my grandpa, giving him a hopeful look. "I'm actually here because I was wondering if I could stay with you for the rest of the week. There've been a lot of wolves around the house, and I can't get any sleep."

Someone snorted loudly. I glanced back to see Henry smacking Evan on the back of the head. Evan smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat, suddenly finding his fingernails particularly interesting.

Grandpa Jacob gave them both a stern look before answering me. "Sure, sure. No problem. Dan, help Rebecca bring her things into the house."

Dan nodded and stood, towering above me, waiting for me to take the lead. The minute we were clear of the house, I breathed a sigh of relief. Dan glanced down at me, raising an eyebrow.

My shoulders rose as a non-committal answer. I wanted to ask him where Adam was—if anyone knew, it would be Dan—but I didn't want him to think that was the only reason I was here (it was the majority of the reason, but he didn't need to know that either).

"Wolves, huh?" he asked, grabbing a bag from the backseat of my car.

"Yeah, they set up shop in the woods behind my house, apparently. Can't get any sleep. I feel like they're watching me. It's creepy."

He shook his head and smiled. "So you'll be staying here the rest of the week?"

"That's the plan."

"Good," he said, shouldering my bags and walking back towards the house.

I didn't understand why he sounded so relieved, but I decided not to question him. As we walked through the door, the entire room went silent again. I had the feeling that I had been the hot topic of conversation just seconds before. Dan took my bags to my childhood bedroom—a setting for much of our adventures as young kids—and returned to his brother's side.

"I'm gonna get going," he announced, looking around the room. The others stood up and began muttering about how they 'were late' or 'needed to start dinner' or, in the case of Evan, 'left their porn out in the open and mom would be home soon.' Henry smacked him in the back of the head again. Everyone gave me a hug and told me how glad they were to see me. I noticed how short I was compared to everyone else.

"What have they been feeding you guys? You're monsters!" I laughed as Evan and Henry hugged me at the same time. Henry's smile faltered, but Evan's stretched from ear to ear.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he teased, ruffling my hair. I rolled my eyes and punched him in the arm. I think it hurt me more than him, and he chuckled as I examined my sore knuckles.

Once everyone had made their exit, I turned to my grandpa, whose uncomfortable expression only confirmed my suspicions. He knew something.

And I was determined to know what it was.

* * *

**A/N**: Another update for you guys! Sorry it takes so long for me to update. Unfortunately (and I do mean that when I say it) I have a life outside of writing. I wish I could write all the time but it doesn't always work out that way. I'm also writing a novel right now, and it could use some attention.

Twilight the movie…what did you guys think? I've seen it four times already and well…I think that speaks for itself. I could gush about it forever, but here's the shortened version: Jasper equals my new lover. Rob's accent was sex and Alice was perfection! I adored the baseball scene, and Rob's song in the ballet scene almost brought me to tears.

A HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. I was happy to see my story reach 100 reviews and SO blown away when I got to 117! You guys ROCK!

To answer a few questions:

Yes, it was Jasper and Emmett in the store. The Cullens aren't going to suddenly appear in the story again (sorry), but they are going to start making appearances. Everyone do a happy dance!

sbeller: Yes, Bella and Becca do look alike (though due to her Native American roots, Becca is noticeably tanner)

Any other questions you have, feel free to ask. I may not be able to answer everything at the risk of giving away the plot, but ask away!


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer gets all the credit for Twilight. I get all the credit for this plotline.

**A/N:** Wow, I called it. It really took me the whole two weeks to get this out. But here you go…the next chapter (and on time!)

Chapter 10: Confrontations

* * *

"It was so nice to see everyone," I mentioned to my grandpa as I cleaned up the empty cans of soda and stacks of newspapers that littered his living room. No matter how many times I came over, there was always a new mess waiting to be cleaned. Grandpa never seemed to grow out of his bachelor phase and his friends were just as bad. My grandma kept on top of the clutter, but it seemed that without her, the task was left to me.

"Everyone was surprised to see you," he replied absently. I turned to look at him. He was staring out the window at the rainy landscape, drumming his fingers on the arm of his recliner. He seemed like he was waiting for something…or someone.

"Is someone supposed to be coming over?" I asked, trying to appear nonchalant. I wanted to bet all the money I had saved up on who I thought he was waiting for, a certain someone who hadn't been in the group that just left.

"Rebecca, could you start a pot of coffee for me?" he asked without looking at me. I couldn't tell if he was avoiding the question or if he just wasn't paying attention.

"Sure," I replied. I cast him a curious glance before I went to the kitchen to start a new pot.

With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, I carefully made my way back to the living room. My grandpa accepted the cup graciously and took a cautious sip before setting it on the table next to the phone.

Wait a minute. Had the phone been there before? I was sure it hadn't because I had set it back on the receiver when I was cleaning up. So my grandpa sent me out of the room to make a phone call. I had to give him credit. He was tricky, even in old age.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything by coming here," I started, attempting to sound repentant. "If you have things to do, I could go—"

"Don't be ridiculous. If you want to stay here, that's fine. It's just that…everyone is worried about Adam," he admitted. Finally, I was getting somewhere.

"What about Adam? What's wrong with him?"

My grandpa seemed reluctant to answer. "He…he hasn't been around much lately."

"He's missing?!" I blurted out, suddenly terrified.

"No, no. Not missing," Grandpa reassured me quickly. "He's just going through a rough time. He's not talking, not eating a lot. He won't return phone calls or answer the door. He's essentially…ignoring us."

"You and me, both," I muttered. I earned a quizzical glance. Right. I had forgotten how great my grandpa's hearing was.

"Why is he going through a rough time?" I wondered aloud.

"There've been a lot of changes in the past few weeks," was my grandfather's cryptic reply. He opened the newspaper, successfully ending the conversation.

* * *

The next day during my study hall, I made my way to the library. I had homework that needed attending, and I had finals to study for, but I had already made up my mind about what I was going to do. I clicked on the internet icon and went to the school's search engine.

'Cullen' was all I typed.

About seven thousand results came up, most talking about Rugby. I scrolled through quickly, seeing if anything caught my eye. A link to "The Seattle Times" was at the top of the second page, the title reading "New Wonder Doctor at Valley General Hospital." I clicked the link, remembering my grandpa's reaction to the same article a month ago.

"They're_ back,"_ he had muttered in disgust.

"_Who are the Cullen's?"_ The name I saw as I read over his shoulder didn't mean anything to me.

"_Just a family that used to live here."_

How long ago must they have lived here for my grandpa to remember them, and yet for me to have no memory of the name? His reaction seemed to be the key. Who did he hate? A month ago I would've confidently said 'no one.' But that was a month ago. I could now safely say he hated at least three people. Victoria, the Cullens, and my grandma's ex-boyfriend.

Three things simultaneously ran through my mind.

_A lonely white house sitting forlorn in a clearing. _

My grandma's journal, the last entry I had read. _'I __drove to __their__ empty house and threw all of the unwanted acceptance letters through the broken window.' _

My wistful voice as I asked,_ 'Who do you belong to?'_

I logged off the computer as quickly as I could and ran to the section I had visited weeks ago. I skipped past the junior section knowing her face wouldn't be there. Prom. She was dancing happily with her arms around a boy's neck, unaware that her picture was being taken. A shock of bronze hair was set against the background of his white skin. There was no caption next to the picture, no clue to set me in the right direction. Was he even in the same grade?

To be thorough, I started from the beginning, working quickly through the freshman and making my way to the sophomores. "Bronze hair, bronze hair, look for bronze hair," I muttered aloud, skimming each page as quickly and meticulously as possible.

Juniors. I only read a few names before I reached one that knocked my breath away. _Cullen. Cullen, Alice. Cullen, Edward._ I looked to his face, suddenly positive that he was the one I was looking for. He was beautiful…and intimidating. His soulful eyes gazed carelessly at me, silently questioning whether I had any right to be looking at him. His bronze hair fell loosely into his face, and a smile that said 'I don't care to be here right now, but I'll smile anyway' graced his lips. I tried to search for the words to describe him, other than beautiful or perfect. Cocky. Confident. They all fit his look of detached interest. I looked closer and found myself thinking back to last Thursday in the store, being inspected by a pair of similar golden eyes. Glancing over the picture of Edward Cullen again, I noticed the similarities to the men at Fork's Outfitters. Pale with eyes of liquid amber. It was there that the similarities ended, but nonetheless, I felt there was a connection somehow.

I turned my attention to Alice Cullen who sat to the left of her…brother? Cousin? Golden eyes, flawlessly white complexion. It was bizarre to see those repetitive traits over and over again. Alice seemed more sincere than her neighbor, a bright chipper smile spreading across her small face. I felt more comfortable inspecting her picture than I had with Edward's. She seemed to invite me to look at her. 'Come on, Becca, you're smart. You can figure it out,' she seemed to tease.

I closed the yearbook, grabbed the one next to it, and made my way with both to the checkout desk. "Can I take these?" I asked the elderly librarian.

"Those are yearbooks," she stated, sounding a bit clueless.

"Research paper," I lied quickly. "On the…the, uh…trends in society, based on teenagers in small towns."

She stared at my intently, her hawk eyes peaking over what I could only think to describe as old lady glasses. Finally, she passed the scanner over the books, a satisfying beep announcing they were _mine_ until the return date.

* * *

I sat on my bed at Grandpa's, books surrounding me on every side. Both yearbooks were open and the journal was set between them. Grandpa decided to go to Seth's house for dinner, asking first if I wanted to join him. I declined, even though I was tempted. Adam would make himself scarce if I decided to come around. I had to catch him off guard, and he already seemed forewarned of my arrival.

I was desperately trying to find more information on the Cullen's. I had typed Edward's name in the search engine and came up with one relevant article in the Forks Forum over sixty years ago. When I clicked on the link, it said it could no longer be found. After that, it was a frustrating search of how exactly the Cullen's fit into Forks' past. All I had discovered so far was that Edward had left between prom and the time the senior pictures were taken. He—and Alice for that matter—were absent, and my grandma was a shell of her former self, staring blankly up from the page, obviously heartbroken.

Were the men I saw at Fork's Outfitters sons or grandsons of Edward? If so, where could I find them? I had a feeling that Edward was the answer to many of the mysteries in the journal. If I could find him, I would be that much closer to understanding. Of course, like Grandma, he could already be dead, but I had to find out.

I picked up the journal, hoping my grandma had written anything of value.

_June 4__th__, 2006_

_So much has happened in the past month. Victoria is becoming pushier, testing the boundaries. It won't be long now until she gets tired of waiting. I don't know what the outcome will be, but Jake and the rest seem confident._

_I visited Mom a few weeks ago. She seemed so relieved to see me in person. Last time didn't end so well. But I'm living, I'm breathing, I'm laughing. She can't ask for more._

_I went to a bonfire with Jake last night. I feel a part of this group now. Would I feel so comfortable with them if _he_ had stayed? Would they feel comfortable with me? I got to hear the legends of the Quileute tribe. Finally I feel like I understand everything. I'm not exactly thrilled with the whole 'age' thing, though. It doesn't seem fair. First it was _him_, now Jacob. Who knows, next it will be Angela._

I smiled, knowing my grandma had felt the magic of our legends, just like I felt it every time I heard them.

I yawned, stretching my arms and back, accidently knocking one of the yearbooks off the bed. It landed spine down, flipping open to a random page. I picked it up, glancing at the seniors pictures smiling back at me. Something caught my eye, and I suddenly felt dizzy, maybe even a little sick.

_Cullen, Emmett._ I recognized not only his last name, but his eyes, his hair, his face, his hulking frame. He was the man I saw in the store, except he hadn't been sixty years older like he should have been, but the same age as he was in the yearbook. That would have been coincidence enough if another pale figure hadn't caught my attention. _Hale, Jasper._ Golden eyes. Blonde hair. Inquisitive expression. Looking the same a few days ago as he did in 2005.

How could someone not age a day even after half a century? There was nothing my brain could come up with that sounded even slightly plausible. Had I seen ghosts? I glanced to the journal. What had my grandma said about age? I assumed she meant Edward when she said '_he,'_ but what did his age have to do with anything? Would he look the same if I found him today? It was impossible. This was all just one massive coincidence that the universe threw as a curve ball to mess with peoples' minds. It just happened to be my mind that was being messed with.

Fighting an impending headache, I cleared my bed off and crawled under the covers. Sleep evaded me. I tried counting sheep, drinking warm milk—I regretted that choice instantly—, brushed my teeth (that didn't help me sleep, it just got the horrible milk taste out of my mouth), and even tried a pm aspirin. Nothing helped. I couldn't stop thinking about the two men. They weren't just lookalikes of the boys in the yearbook, they were identical. Who…what…were they?

* * *

I woke up early after a fitful night's sleep. The sun wasn't up but the rain had stopped sometime in the night, making it a perfect morning to go for a walk. I needed to clear my mind, or at least have enough space to think. I felt crowded in my grandpa's small house, as though my thoughts were too big to fit inside his walls.

The comforting crunch of the rocky beach soothed me as I made my way down the shoreline. I walked a ways before sitting on a semi-dry log. Letting my gaze wander over the dark water, I began sorting through the confusion in my head.

From what I already knew, the Cullen's were the ones that lived in the white house in the forest. My grandma had dated Edward Cullen, however briefly, before being heartbroken by his departure. Why did he leave? That was my first question.

My train of thought shifted to Emmett and Jasper, the two ageless mystery men. How were they the same as sixty years ago? Was this some sort of _Tuck Everlasting_ situation? I was ready to consider the impossible.

My last question was the one that puzzled me the most, the one that kept me tossing and turning last night. How is it all connected?

I let those questions sink in as I waited for the sun to slowly peak over the trees behind me. The ocean itself was still black, but the faint pink and oranges of dawn were beginning to reflect off the mirrored surface. Sometimes I wished I lived on the eastern coast, just so I could watch a sunrise over the water. And yet, with the sun slowly waking the world behind me, I felt connected to the sleeping waters in front. The western coast found a more peaceful sunrise, mist and fog swirling together, like a child refusing to shake off the last bit of sleep. It was this type of peace I needed to help me sort through my thoughts.

The sky was filled with a mixture of soft blues, baby pinks, and vibrant oranges before I stood up, brushing off my pants, and wrapping my coat a little tighter around my body. The wind was picking up and it wouldn't be long before another spring storm rolled in. I slowly began making my way back to the house, not wanting to get caught in the impending rain.

I pulled my swirling hair out of my face and that's when I saw him. My heart sputtered to a stop before picking up tempo. Now was my chance.

"Adam!" I called. His retreating figure froze and melted simultaneously. His back was ridged but hearing me call his name seemed to soften him somehow. He shuddered before continuing to walk away.

'_Wrong move,'_ I thought to myself. I started jogging after him, but it seemed like his walk was faster than my slow paced run. I picked up speed until I was in a full out sprint after him, rock and sand kicking out behind me. Just before I could reach him, he stopped and whipped around to face me. It wasn't just his abrupt stop that startled me. If I could think of any word to describe him, it would be dead. Or lifeless, rather. His face was haggard and his eyes were shadowed under his prominent brow. His skin was paler and his lips were drawn in a tight line. I tried to remember the Adam I had seen just over a week ago. One that was smiling and bright and glowing. I compared that Adam to this one and couldn't even find a resemblance. Maybe, just maybe, there was a slight similarity to this new Adam in the eyes. Eyes that I couldn't get a good look at because he wouldn't raise them to look at me.

"Adam," I said his name, more tenderly this time, and once again it sparked a reaction in him. This time he buckled under the weight of it. His shoulders slumped and his eyes, still focused on the ground, seemed to drop even further. The way his head was bowed reminded me of a man in prayer.

His voice was so…changed, so wrong, that I didn't recognize it at first. "We can't talk right now, Becca."

"Why not? What's wrong? Why are you so diff—?"

"Just drop it, Becca!" he snapped, suddenly defensive. His eyes flew from the ground to the ocean beside us, never once resting on me.

"What is your problem?" I asked, crossing my arms. It was my turn to be defensive. "Why have you been so…bipolar these past few days? Why are you taking it out on me?"

"Because you won't leave me alone!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, then resting them over his face. "Just leave me alone." His voice was muffled and strained.

"Maybe I should," I admitted, wanting desperately to get the last word and leave, before he could hurt me more. "But, I can't. I just want to know why you won't talk to me, why you won't even look at me."

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I just don't, okay!" he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"Why have you been avoiding everyone? Ignoring me?" I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to hit him, mainly I just wanted answers.

"It's just better if we're not friends." He sounded resigned.

I attempted to make my voice sound stronger, but it still ended up sounding strangled. "I was under the impression you were interested in being more than friends." He didn't answer, so I prodded him again. "Were you?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"I never thought of you that way, Becca."

"Liar," I accused. "Look me in the eyes and tell me again."

"Bec—"

"Look me in the eyes!" I shouted in frustration.

"Becca, I—" he stopped, his voice sounding unsteady.

His eyes met mine.

* * *

**A/N: **I forgot to say this before in my Author's Note, but thanks to Kellinw, I've been nominated in three categories in the Twilight Awards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What an honor. I started this story hoping to get good feedback, but this is so beyond my expectations! Thank you so much!

I got over 20 reviews in the past two weeks and it's really blowing me away how much you guys like this story. What an honor to write for such awesome reviewers! You guys deserve to be nominated for awards more than I do! Without your feedback and positive words, I don't know if I'd have the inspiration to keep going. High five, everyone!

Let me know what you think of this chapter. There was a lot of agonizing over the details here because it's starting to pick up speed. There's gonna be a lot more action ahead, so be prepared!


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Imprint

* * *

It seemed like it took forever for his eyes to reach mine. When they did, it seemed like a magnet kept our gazes locked, minutes passing before I finally looked away. He opened his mouth, once, twice, gaping like a fish out of water. When he finally found the words to say, it wasn't something I wanted to hear.

"Becca, I…I can't talk to you right now," his voice was choked and breathless.

I shook my head. I had felt something when he looked at me and I refused to believe he didn't feel it, too. "Please stay," I whispered.

His shoulders slumped in defeat as he took a step closer to me. "Let's go sit over there." He motioned towards a rocky outcrop under a large group of trees. Once situated, he turned to me. "You wanted to talk?" There was a gentleness in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Why have you been ignoring me? Is it because of the house? Did I do something wro—"

"No," he said quickly, cutting me off. "You didn't do anything. And it wasn't because of the whole breaking in thing. Well, in a way it kinda was. Not directly anyway," he rambled. "I just…I'm just...I can't talk about it." A look of incredulity crossed his face, and he gave an exasperated laugh. "I can't talk about it with you."

"Perfect," I said sarcastically, standing up. "Well, I guess we don't have anything to talk about then." I turned to leave.

"Wait," he said, grabbing my wrist. His touch was burning even though the morning was still chilly. I looked down at him, ready to pull away, but his pained expression stopped me. "Were you lying before?"

"About what?"

"About thinking we were…more?" His eyes darted to the ground with embarrassment.

"No." I made sure I poured every ounce of sincerity in my body into that one word. "Were you?"

"For the past week and a half, I have wanted nothing else but to find you and kiss you." The side of his mouth stretched upward into a lazy grin and his demeanor seemed to reflect the old Adam once again. I felt my own lips stretching into an easy smile. For the first time, answers could wait. I wanted him to kiss me, too.

He brought his hand up and rested it on my cheek, leaning forward slowly. My eyes fluttered shut and I could feel my heart thumping frantically inside my chest. I thought I heard Adam chuckle quietly, but I couldn't be sure. I wasn't sure if I could hear _anything_ over the pounding rhythm of my heart.

Suddenly Adam's hand was no longer on my cheek, and he seemed to be leaning as far away from me as possible.

"Adam, there you are!" I certainly didn't hear the approaching footsteps of Evan and Henry before it was too late.

"What do we have here?" Evan's eyebrows wiggled suggestively. A rock flew toward his head and he batted it away easily, never letting his smile falter. I looked to Adam who had another egg-sized rock already poised to throw. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned sheepishly, letting the stone fall from his hand.

"Evan, cut it out," Henry snapped, placing a hand over the younger boy's still-wiggling eyebrows and giving a firm shove. "Adam, Dan wants to know where you are. We haven't heard from you in a few days."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Adam asked, nodding his head once in my direction. I wasn't sure if that was boy-code for 'go away, I was about to make out with this girl I'm totally crazy for' but it seemed reasonable.

"Fine, but find us at nine. We have things to discuss. _Big_ things." With that, Henry and Evan turned and began their way down the beach. Evan turned once to give us a look, but before he could, a rock hit him squarely in the forehead. His shocked expression was so comical I didn't even ask Adam how he could've thrown the rock that far.

"Amazing how they find me so quickly," he muttered, bouncing the back of his heel off the rock under him.

"A bit clingy if you ask me," I added, still put off that we had been interrupted. He seemed to notice and smiled widely. I was positive that if I'd been standing, my knees would have gone weak. My fingers itched to hold his, and I had to stop myself from staring too intently at his lips. As if reading my mind, he slid his hand over mine and squeezed lightly.

We settled into an easy silence, watching the water become choppier as the wind picked up. The temperature was dropping, and when I shivered, Adam placed his arm around me. The instantaneous warmth I received was impressive. How did he stay so warm?

When the first drops of rain fell, he pulled me to my feet and started leading me back towards my grandpa's house. Halfway there, the sky opened up, completely drenching us both. I glanced at him as we ran and was so amused by what I saw that I stopped, throwing my head back in laughter. His hair was hanging into his eyes and a stream of water was running off the tip of his nose. He raised an eyebrow at me before joining in the laughter. I'm sure I looked just as hilarious as he did. I couldn't remember a time I'd laughed so hard in my life, and it took me a few minutes to calm down. When I did, I noticed Adam wasn't laughing anymore. Instead he was staring at me with a curious wonder, like a man who sees a mirage in a desert. It was a look that, much like when he put his arm around me, warmed me to my core. I swallowed hard and gave him a tentative smile. He raised his hand to my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb, and suddenly we were kissing.

Kissing Adam was a lot like running a marathon. My breathing started out steady but before long I felt breathless and weak. His warm arm held me tightly at the waist, no doubt supporting all of weight. As he pulled away, he chuckled huskily, running his thumb over my lips. I opened my eyes slowly and met the same look as before, the look of awe and wonder.

"You looked so beautiful in the rain," he said quietly, placing another short kiss on my lips. "I just had to kiss you."

"I didn't mind," I replied with what I was sure was a goofy grin. He chuckled again, before leading me once more to the house.

We reached the porch dripping and grinning like mad. I leaned in, ready to be kissed again when suddenly the door opened. "Rebecca, shouldn't you be in school?" Grandpa Jacob's voice was tinged with worry.

"Spring break started today."

He eyed the two of us standing together, my unabashed grin, and our hands clasped between us. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He glanced again at our hands and then shot a hardened look at Adam. "Go inside, Rebecca, and dry off." It sounded more like an order than a request.

I wanted to argue, but glancing down I knew there was no other option. Wearing white in a rainstorm was never a smart thing to do. I ran inside, threw on a dry shirt, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wrapping it around my dripping hair. I made my way back to the door, catching the tail-end of the apparent argument on the other side.

"—can't you just be happy?"

"Why did it have to be her?" I was shocked at how enraged my grandpa seemed.

"As if _choice_ is ever an option in this life," Adam spat.

"She's _my_ granddaughter."

"She's _my_—"

"Don't even say it!"

"Jacob, with all due respect, you don't really have a say in this. You can't keep me from her."

A brief silence followed before my grandpa answered, this time more subdued. "I know that, Adam. I know."

I chose that time to interrupt their conversation by opening the door. Adam's smile was instantaneous. Grandpa Jacob, on the other hand, seemed less enthused. He muttered something about missing a game before shuffling past me into the house. My eyes trailed after him, worried that he was upset with me, but he turned and gave me a small reassuring smile. I returned it before stepping onto the porch and gently closing the door.

Adam wasted no time in pulling me into a hug. I wanted to push him away and ask him what the fight with my grandpa had been about, but I couldn't seem to find the will to do so. I let myself sink further into his arms, enveloped in a case of warmth. How easy it was to be with him, almost like we were made for each other.

I could have stayed in his arms for the entire day, but the reality was that he was hot. Really hot. Beads of sweat were forming on my upper lip and my clothes were sticking awkwardly to my body. I pushed against his chest and looked up at him—he seemed to have grown in just the week and a half we'd been apart.

"You're hot," I stated simply, waving cool air on my face with my hand.

"Thanks," he said smugly. I rolled my eyes. Boys and their egos.

"You know what I mean. Are you sick? I'm pretty sure it's not healthy to be that warm."

"Don't worry about it, Becca. I'm healthier than I've ever been before," he laughed, pulling me to him again. "I'm happier than I've ever been before," he whispered before kissing me gently. My hands snaked around his neck, plunging my fingers into his thick hair. He deepened the kiss, pressing me tightly against him.

A quiet cough from inside the house warned us that my grandpa was coming outside. We jumped apart—a little reluctantly—as the door opened. "Adam, Dan called. He asked if you could meet them now. They can't wait until tonight."

Adam's shouldered slumped but he didn't seem quite as unhappy as he had been this morning. It looked like his period of avoiding people was over. He gave me a small smile before jumping off the porch and heading towards the woods.

I watched until he disappeared, feeling suddenly lonely, even with my grandpa standing next to me. Needing to distract myself with something, anything, I walked back inside and picked up the journal. Questions that had been pushed aside all day suddenly came flooding back. I decided to do something that I hadn't done before. I flipped ahead. I rationalized that if there was something I didn't understand, I'd go back, but I was too eager to find some sense in my grandma's life.

I thumbed through the pages, skimming over the each entry. Entries describing days with Jacob, a brief line on how Victoria was gone, and eventually entries about her first days in the University of Washington. Entries were becoming fewer and far between, but filled with more thoughts of Jacob and less of the mysterious Edward Cullen to which she had alluded. Finally, I chose a page to start reading, reassured I hadn't missed much.

_February 15__th__, 2008_

_The second semester is already underway, and I miss Jake more than ever. Yesterday, I got a box of conversation hearts in the mail as is our tradition. When I opened it, it seemed that he had taken the liberty of replacing every heart with ones that read "Be Mine." I want to be his and that thought is both comforting and frightening. I gave up the hope of _his_ return long ago, but I can't control how my stomach clenches when I hear his name or the dreams I have of the time we spent together. I need to be completely sure before anything happens with Jake. I have to be fair to him. I need to be fair to myself. Time away at college has at least taught me one thing: Jacob means far more to me than I realized. _

_August 21__st__, 2008_

_It's taken all summer, but Jacob and I are finally together. He wanted to get an apartment near the campus, but I had to reassure him that we'd see each other enough. He needs to stay in La Push to take care of Billy. It may be unfair to start a relationship right before I leave, but if I know Jake (which I do) I know that the three days I have left here will be more than he could ask for. After all, he's been waiting for this for three years._

_May 16__th__, 2009_

_I love Jacob. Not only that, but I'm in love with Jacob. I don't know when it happened, but I just realized it. He has said the words before, and never once did he expect me to return them. Now it's all I want to say to him. We're going to a bonfire tonight. I'll tell him then._

_May 17__th__, 2009_

_Was he ever going to tell me about imprinting? I can't believe him! How can he say he loves me when he knows there is someone else out there that is made for him? What happens when he meets her? What if its ten years down the line and we're already married with kids? Will he leave me or stay and be miserable for the rest of his life? I can't believe I said I loved him last night! He looked so happy and when he kissed me it was like he poured his soul into it. But then Emily and Kim had to start talking about imprinting. The look in Jacob's eyes when he saw my hopeful look and realized what I was thinking…and then to tell me I wasn't his imprint! Will there ever be someone who is made for me? Who won't leave me just as I fall in love with them?_

I could feel my grandma's utter despair, even through the words in her journal. To love two people and have your heart broken twice? I couldn't imagine it. I didn't understand what she meant by "imprint" but I knew someone who did. I walked to the living room where my grandpa was watching the news. He glanced up as I entered, his eyes tired and sad. I wondered if he was thinking of Grandma or if the fight he'd had with Adam had gotten him down. I sat on the couch and cleared my throat. He looked to me again and let a corner of his mouth stretch into a small smile.

"What's wrong, Grandpa?" I asked, reaching out to gently touch the back on his hand. He reached over with is other hand and rested it on mine.

"Just thinking."

"About Grandma?" I whispered.

"About Grandma. About you. About what life I've got left in this old body." He chuckled darkly. "I'm feeling old, Rebecca."

"Oh, Grandpa," I smiled, trying to lighten the mood, "you'll never be old."

"I already passed up on that chance," he answered cryptically.

"Can I ask you a question?" I needed to ask, even though I knew it was probably a sore subject for him.

"You can ask me anything."

"Did you and Grandma ever, you know…break up?"

He seemed taken aback. "How did you know?"

I scrambled quickly for a lie. "Well, you had said you waited a long time to date her and even longer to marry her. I mean, there must have been some drama involved, right?"

"Yes, we did break up. Before we'd even been together for a year." He closed his eyes, no doubt thinking back to the time when he thought he'd lost her. "She didn't talk to me for weeks."

"Why did you break up?" I could see his eyebrows furrow when I asked, and I knew I was prying into a subject he'd rather not discuss.

"It's actually hard to explain," he sighed, trying to end the conversation. I wasn't going to let it end there.

"Does it have anything to do with imprinting?" I asked casually, scrutinizing my fingernails with an air of nonchalance.

"What do you know of that?" he asked sharply, sitting forward.

"Nothing. Not really. I mean, Grandma mentioned it once," I stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden anger.

"She talked about imprinting?" He seemed shocked and surprisingly hurt.

"In passing, really. She never said what it was about." I suddenly felt like a small child again, afraid to displease anyone. I felt horrible for lying to him, but there was no way I could talk about the journal. "I was just curious, Grandpa. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Rebecca," he said, patting my hand softly. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing. You just caught me off guard."

"So, what is imprinting?" I asked, hopeful once more.

"Ah," he sighed, dragging a weathered hand over his face. "It really is hard to explain. And I'm afraid it's not my place to tell you."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find your answers soon enough, Rebecca," he answered as the phone rang. He picked it up, listening intently to whoever was on the other line.

"You're sure?" he asked frantically. "Yes, I know that. But here?" He paused listening to whatever answer was being given. "You would know better than I do," he snapped. "Fine. Let me know as soon it's done." With that, he slammed the phone back on the receiever.

I stared at him as he dragged his hand over his face again, shaking a little as he did so. "Is everything alright?"

"Promise me something," he said suddenly, grabbing both of my hands and gazing directly into my eyes.

"Okay." I had never heard such desperation and fear in my grandpa's voice. It terrified me.

"Stay inside for the rest of the day. Don't go out for anything. Stay inside, please," he pleaded.

"I'll stay inside, Grandpa. Don't worry," I soothed, pulling a hand from his grasp and gently rubbing one of his. I would question his request later. "I'll stay inside."

* * *

**A/N:** Wow, sorry for the wait! To my defense, Fanfiction was being all mean and unnecessary with its random shut down. I mean, we don't have a great relationship to begin with, me and Fanny. It's all 'sorry, no updates for you!' Or 'hey there, let's reset your settings.' But to deny me access completely? That's going too far, Fan! Too far!

Second random order of business…**OVER** **200 REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** I am completely wowed and humbled that over forty people turned out to review the last chapter. That was a personal record for me. Feel proud, Discovery readers! Can we reach 300? Come on! A girl can dream, right?

Thanks to all that did review. I know I don't respond to reviews a lot, but I'm going to try to change that. You all deserve personal thanks for all of the great feedback you give me.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** *Cracks open an energy drink, turns up the music* Let's get this chapter done, shall we?

**Disclaimer x 2: **I realized I didn't have one for the last chapter, so this one serves for both this one and chapter 11. I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer gets all the credit. Lucky lady.

Chapter 12: Fear

* * *

My grandpa was on edge. I would be lying if I said I wasn't on edge, too. The only difference was I had no clue why.

Every minute that passed seemed like an hour nervous anticipation—for what remained a mystery. Grandpa wouldn't look me in the eye or engage in the multitude of conversations I tried to start. It made me jump every time he flicked the curtains apart and peered into the encroaching darkness.

I ran down a long list of things that could be going wrong. Was someone in an accident? My mind immediately jumped to Adam. I shook my head forcibly, brushing that idea away. We wouldn't be on lock-down if it was an accident. What about wild animals? The wolves that had surrounded my house could be lurking around this area, too. Again, my thoughts went straight to Adam who had gone running off into the woods. I strained my ears to hear anything outside of my grandpa's house. Nothing—unless you counted the hooting of an owl close by. What if it wasn't an animal? What if it was some sort of crazy serial killer on the prowl for blood? My heart jumped up into my throat.

It was useless, really, imagining all of the worst case scenarios, but the waiting was driving me insane. Every tick of the clock seemed to fray my nerves more. I felt a sharp pain on my thumb and looked down to realize I had been methodically biting my nails—a habit I'd battled to get rid of for years—until I bled. I sucked hard until the pain ebbed away, chiding myself for ruining the nails I'd meticulously worked to achieve.

I stood up abruptly, needing to do something other than wait.

My grandpa's head shot up, a questioning look cancelling out the worried one. "Rebecca?"

"I think I'm going to bed," I lied, a plan formulating in my head. "I was up early this morning and I'm tired." I kept my eyes down, hoping he wouldn't notice their wild look or note the determination in my voice.

"Sure, sure. I'll be up a little longer. I'm just waiting for a phone call," was his reply as he turned back to his station at the window. It was a stroke of luck that he was already so preoccupied, or he wouldn't have let me go without so much as a question. I left him there, quickly walking to my room down the hall.

I grabbed my cell phone, dialing Adam's number with my trembling fingers. When it went straight to voicemail, I knew what I was going to do. I threw my pillows under the blanket, attempting to form a human shape—my only rationalization being that it worked in the movies. I turned off the lights and went to the window, opening it slowly, avoiding any sounds it might make.

Once it was open, I swung one leg over and then the other, my senses on high alert. I hit the ground with a soft thud and turned to survey my surroundings. It was black out now, the only light coming from inside the house and from the sliver of moon that hung low in the sky.

I made my way towards the woods, searching for a path I knew had existed in my childhood. It led to Clearwater house and Adam and I had used it frequently when we were younger. If I could find it now, I would be at his front door in minutes. The only problem was it was dark—plants, trees, and shadows melted together, making it impossible to see anything. It was very possible the path was overgrown now and hidden from view.

I noticed a thinning of vegetation in the general area I thought the trail should have been and decided it was the closest I'd get. As I entered the woods, I suddenly wished I'd worn different clothing. My flats were sinking into the mud and I felt chilled through my long-sleeved t-shirt. It was too late to turn back—not without the risk of getting caught. I trudged forward in what I hoped was the direction of Adam's house.

I'd been walking for ten minutes and was beginning to worry. I should have seen the lights from his house by now. Instead, it seemed all light had been sapped from the area. I knew this meant I was heading deeper into the forest, but I forced myself to swallow the panic. I was probably just psyching myself out and if I turned around now, I'd end up more lost than I already was. I stopped, allowing myself to gather my wits and think logically. Adam's house was east of my grandpa's. If I'd gone a little to the south I would have eventually hit the road. I must have turned too far north and skirted past his house. All I had to do was turn around and keep to the left of my original path.

I started moving in the new direction when suddenly my foot caught on a root I hadn't been able to see. I flew forward, my hands reaching out to take the impact. The force of the fall jammed my wrist, and pain went shooting up my arm. I scrambled back to my feet, cradling my arm against me. My eyes began to water from the pain. I prodded my wrist experimentally, hoping nothing was broken. I hissed as I poked a particularly tender spot, but immediately knew it was only a sprain. Regardless, I needed to get out of the woods as soon as possible.

I had a tiny problem though. When I had fallen I lost all sense of direction. Was that the tree I had tripped over? Or was it over there? I opened my eyes wider, willing myself to see something other than the blackness of the forest. It was no use though, and I finally allowed myself to feel some of the panic I'd swallowed earlier. My wrist throbbed with a sudden intensity, and I choked back a sob.

A twig snapped to my left and I spun around, listening closely for something other than the pounding of my own heart. A soft shuffling sound came from a few feet off and with that, I ran.

Branches and twigs grabbed at my clothing and hair as I sprinted through the darkness. I felt thorn bushes tearing through my jeans when I paid them no mind. A particularly sharp branch scraped my face, missing my eye by centimeters. I heard another crack of a branch nearby and my stride faltered, causing me to stumble.

I felt like a wild animal being corned by a predator. I panicked, trying to decide which way to go. 'Away from the noise,' my terrified mind reasoned. I lurched to a run again, tripping as I did so. Suddenly, the ground was no longer under my feet, and I was falling.

I hit the ground with a muted thud, the mud absorbing most of the impact as I continued to slide down the slick embankment. I felt every rock and root bruising and scraping as I rolled. I didn't see the rock that I slammed my head against, and even if I had, I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. Blackness swallowed me in an icy blanket.

* * *

When I was younger, I often went to the beach with my parents. They'd float with me in the water, allowing me to test my stamina without fear of drowning. Sometimes waves would knock me down and that brief flash of terror as the water covered me was enough to teach me to respect the ocean, to respect the power of water in general. Once, when I was visiting my grandparents for the summer, the boys invited me to swim with them at the beach. Being the cocky pre-teen I was, I accepted. I was determined to show off my skills to the older boys and have the younger ones look up to me. I rushed into the water ahead of everyone else. I turned to look back, but a wave knocked me over, pulling me under and throwing me around like rag doll. I remember feeling panicked as I struggled to surface, cold as I realized I didn't know which way was up, numb as I slowly ran out of air. Of course, if it wasn't for Adam who dove into the waves and pulled me up and Dan and Connor who carried me to the beach and helped force the water out of my lungs, I probably would have died then.

I was sinking. I wasn't talking metaphorically, though technically I could've applied to feeling to the situation. Unfortunately, I was literally sinking. The icy water had been enough to bring me back to consciousness, but I took in a mouthful of dirty water before I realized where I was. I felt the terror of drowning once more as I forced myself not to breathe. I fought through the panic, found my footing, and pushed off from the soft bottom. As soon as my head broke the surface, I took in a lungful of air before dragging myself towards the shore. Exhausted and heavy from my water-logged clothes, I collapsed in the muddy bank and passed out once again.

The second time I awoke was no better. A snuffling sound had alerted me to the presence of an animal—a big one from the sounds of it. I cracked one eye open and was met with a long muzzle and wet nose mere inches from my face. Thoughts of being eaten alive by a wild animal went racing through my mind. How was I going to get out of this situation? I was sore, bleeding, and probably suffering from a concussion. I couldn't outrun whatever creature of the night this was. Bear, wolf, mountain lion, it didn't matter. I was stuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ease my erratic heart. I was going to die. And if by some miracle I didn't die, there was no way I was getting out of this one unscathed. _"Don't go looking for trouble. With your genes, it's bound to come running to you."_ It was odd how much my grandma's words rang true. Time after time, I went looking for trouble, but it always seemed to meet my half way. This time I had really pushed my luck. The fates were sending me a message.

A low, pleading whine escaped the massive animal, and I felt its tongue tenderly lick the cut on my forehead. Its blatant display of tenderness did not stop me from flinching. I opened my eyes again, staring directly into the intelligent eyes of the largest wolf I'd ever seen. Everything in me was screaming to get out of there, to run away as fast as possible, but there was something familiar about the way the wolf looked at me. As if it was worried about me.

I raised my head a fraction of an inch, testing the limits of the animal's patience. I didn't want to risk a finger or a hand due to any sudden movements. Its eyes watched me as I slowly began to sit up, careful not to put any weight on my wrist. The head rush as I became vertical once more was instant, making me both cringe in pain and swoon with lightheadedness. As if noticing my condition, the wolf touched his cold nose to my hand and whimpered.

"I'm okay," I said, not really knowing why I was explaining myself to a wild animal. "Nothing I won't survive…as long as you don't eat me." The sound coming from the wolf made me jump. It was a wheezing cough, but it reminded me of someone laughing.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" He coughed again and lowered his head.

Once my head started to clear, I began to study the animal. Its head was easily as big as my torso, and if it stood, I was sure it would tower over lesser creatures—maybe even me. I had no idea wolves could come in such a large package. Maybe this was some new breed created by evolution, though I wasn't sure how that made sense. Although covered in a thick coat of fur, I could tell the how powerful he was. You couldn't be an animal that big and _not_ be powerful.

I looked around, noticing for the first time that I was a couple yards away from the water I'd dragged myself out of. How I'd gotten where I was, I didn't know, though a sneaking suspicion told me to point a finger at the friendly giant still staring at me.

An intense shiver suddenly tore through my body, my muscles seizing and releasing in rapid succession. I couldn't tell if I was cold or not, but logic was telling me I should be. The pain in my head was dulling, and something told me that shouldn't be happening either. So this is what going into shock felt like. I'd sprained my wrist, given myself a concussion and almost drowned, but I felt none of it. To top it all off, I was sitting in front of the world's largest canine, having a casual conversation with it. Part of me wondered if this was all just a hallucination. If I lived through this, I was telling Adam. He'd find some humor in it—after he got over being furious with me.

The wolf stood suddenly, padding silently behind me before lying down again. I turned to look at him, still shaking violently. His head bobbed once before he made a sound between a whimper and a sigh.

"You want to snuggle?" I asked through clenched teeth. His neck craned forward in response. I scooted myself towards him, my back resting on his stomach. Immediately, my muscles began to relax, his body giving off an extreme heat that warmed me instantly. He gently rested his head on my lap and curled his tail to meet it. I raised my good hand and tentatively placed it on his neck, exploring the surprisingly soft fur behind his ears. If wolves could purr, I'd swear he was.

"I wonder if my grandpa knows I'm missing yet," I whispered, letting myself relax further into his warm coat. "I snuck out so I could see my boyfriend." The wolf hummed louder. "I mean, I guess he's my boyfriend. We've really only been together one day, but it feels like it's been longer. I've known him my whole life. I feel…right…when I'm with him," I sighed, feeling exhausted. The animal sighed, too. "Today has been so weird," I continued. "I get lost in the woods, get chased by something." I felt the wolf tense under my fingers, a soft growl emanating from his massive body. "Then I fall off a cliff, almost drown, and now I'm cuddling with a giant wolf."

"You make a great pillow," I added with a yawn. The beast huffed with amusement. I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open anymore, and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

I was back in Colorado in our tiny house on the highway. Huge trucks always sped by at night, shaking my room and rumbling loudly. It was a pain on the weekends when all you wanted to do was sleep in, but I was so used to the noise that it barely ever bothered me.

The rumbling was different this time, though. It was coming from below me, not from outside on the road. I opened my eyes to the pitch black, feeling disoriented and confused. Where was I? Was I really in Colorado?

No, that wasn't right. The night was suddenly coming back to me—memories of the water, of running and of the wolf.

_The wolf_. I sat up quickly, whipping my head towards the noise. There it sat, not a fabrication of my shock-induced state after all. No longer was it the sweet-natured animal but an image of feral ferocity, lips pulled back to bare its elongated, razor sharp teeth.

I felt my heart stutter as I realized how much danger I was in. I started to back up, trying to figure out a way to escape. The wolf didn't spare a glance at me as I continued to put space between us. It was focused intently on the woods ahead of us, obviously growling at some unseen danger. He paused for a moment to turn to me. Staring directly into my eyes, he growled once and then whined before lunging into the darkness of the forest and disappearing almost instantly.

I sat as still as possible, listening for something, anything to prove I was not alone. My muscles ached and my head and wrist throbbed in tandem. All the pains from the night's misfortunes were finally catching up with me. It hurt to move, it hurt to stay still. Hell, it hurt to even _think_ about moving or staying still. All I could do was wait.

Suddenly, the night was full of noises—snaps and crashes, growling that almost drowned out everything else. It sounded close, and I was afraid the fight might move towards my hiding spot, but I couldn't bring myself to move. My anxiety was not entirely for myself—I felt a tiny pit of fear growing for the wolf that had most certainly saved my life more than once in one night.

A loud screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard, pierced through the darkness before everything fell silent. The sudden quiet added to the blackness of the forest made it seem like I had shut off two of my senses. I strained my ears harder, not wanting to be caught off guard.

After what felt like ages, though it couldn't have been more than five minutes, I started to feel my way towards the spot where the wolf disappeared. I heard a soft whimper coming from just beyond the thick undergrowth, and my heart clenched at its pitiful sound. When I found the animal, I let out a shaky breath. It was dark but it didn't stop me from noticing the blood—a lot of it. He heard my approach and attempted to lift his head but only managed to raise it a few inches off the ground before dropping it back down.

What was I going to do? Here was an animal that had undoubtedly saved my life. I felt in some way indebted to the creature and knew I had to do something to help it in return.

I grabbed my shirt sleeve at the shoulder, giving it a hard tug and ripping it at the stitching. I folded it neatly before placing it over a particularly nasty looking gash below his ribs. He yelped softly in pain as I applied pressure.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have to stop the bleeding. You'll be okay," I consoled, taking the time to inspect his other obvious injuries. It was hard to tell through his fur, but it seemed like his worst injuries included the one I was addressing and a deep cut above his left eye. That didn't ease my worries, though. Whatever had done this to him could've easily injured him internally, and it was that thought that scared me the most.

"I should thank you," I continued as I used one hand to apply pressure and the other to rip my other sleeve. "You saved my life tonight…more than once. I have to wonder why. Maybe the legends are true—maybe wolves are still connected to the Quileutes in some way." I continued to mull over the thought as I took the other sleeve and used it to mop up the blood running into his eye. I noticed how shallow his breathing was and lightly pressed against his side. He yelped loudly and snapped his jaw closed.

"Broken ribs," I confirmed, feeling more hopeless by the second. "Please don't die," I whispered, stroking the fur at his neck. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, but it was the other, less visible injuries that seemed to be sapping him of his strength.

The loud snap of a breaking branch came from just ahead of the clearing. I crouched over the wolf's body, unsure of what I should do if it were some sort of predator attracted by the sounds of the fight and smell of blood. What came from the forest both relieved and terrified me. As if melting from the vegetation around them, four massive wolves stood at attention before me.

One of the wolves, the leader I guessed by its stature and position in front of the group, stepped forward slowly. His eyes were not on me, but the wolf at my feet. He whipped his head back to his pack, growling once. The wolf on the farthest left turned and disappeared. The others began to move forward. Instinct made me back up, and it was instinct that made me freeze when the large wolf turned his head towards me, as if noticing my presence for the first time. His eyes shifted to his injured pack member for a moment before turning to me and pulling his lips back.

I glanced once to the injured animal on the ground. His eyes were closed but I could tell he was still breathing. Knowing I was no longer welcome among the pack, I looked directly into the alpha's eyes, hoping he was as intelligent as my wolf. "Take care of him," I commanded. He stared back at me unblinkingly and dipped his head slightly. Satisfied, I turned and began limping from the clearing.

If I thought I was lost before, I had another thing coming. For all I knew, I was miles away from my grandpa's house or any house for that matter. Nothing looked familiar and even if it did, it was too dark to tell. I tried to find the path I was on before, but I didn't even know which direction I'd run. I stopped, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. A few tears fell angrily down my cheeks. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl under my covers and disappear for a few days. I knew I was probably in for a lot of trouble when I got home, but all I wanted to do was sleep—maybe see Adam too, but most definitely sleep.

The sound of rustling leaves made me turn my head. One of the smaller wolves stood behind me, cocking his head to the side. I sighed and continued to limp through the trees. The rustling followed behind me, but I was too tired to be scared. "What?" I asked, whipping around to face the animal. "I'm leaving already, you don't have to follow me." What was it with this place and intelligent wildlife? I'd heard of animals saving human lives or guiding them to safety, but never to this extent. The wolf tilted its head again in question before jumping in front of me. Turning back, it gave me a look as if to say "Well, now you're following _me_."

I huffed indignantly at his pleased look. "By all means, lead the way."

The walk through the woods was far easier with a guide. Why I trusted these animals so much, I had no idea, but what could it hurt at this point? He seemed to know which way he was going. Every once in a while, he'd turn to see if I was still behind him. Our progress was slow, mainly due to the fact I could barely move my legs anymore. I felt like I usually did when I pushed myself to run ten miles—stiff and unbelievably sore. Before I knew it, I saw a faint glow of lights through the trees. I must have only been a mile or so away from my grandpa's house the entire time. It just went to show how easily it was to get turned around in the forest.

The wolf stopped and turned to me. "Thanks," I said, patting it on the shoulder before limping out of the tree line. First things first. I was going to get some aspirin for the pounding headache I had. Then, I was getting a shower and using every last bit of the hot water. After that, I'd sleep, preferably until noon and then go to the doctors for my wrist.

In hindsight, I probably should have snuck back in through my window, but logic was not on my side that night. I opened the front door and froze, the look on my grandpa's face stopping me dead in my tracks.

* * *

**A/N: **I painted my toes a particularly vibrant shade of red. It's very distracting.

Long, long, LONG wait for this chapter and I apologize. I've had a bad case of writer's block recently though the main reason for my lack of writing: I'm transferring colleges as we speak and the process is not as easy as it seems. Now that I'm accepted, registered, and have a place to live, I can stop thinking about whether I'm going to have to commute 2 hours every day or not. Now all I can think about is my writing. Lucky you, right?

You guys realize that when I asked if we could reach 300 reviews, I never expected it? But here I am, looking at my Story Stats for the first time in weeks and there's this little number there and it says 324, but I'm not sure if I'm dreaming or what. **324 reviews???? You are beyond awesome, all of you!**

**Shameless Advertisement: READ EDWARDSOUL'S STORY ****LOST**** AND THEN KEEP READING THROUGH TO THE SEQUEL! SHE IS A PHENOMENAL WRITER AND YOU WON'T REGRET IT! **


	14. IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!

I really promised myself I wouldn't be the type to put author's notes every few chapters, but this is really too important for me to ignore.

I've gotten a lot of reviews and PM's asking me why I've stopped updating.

The answer: I haven't stopped updating. I'm always working on the next chapter. Do I have all of my chapters written? No. And that's what takes time.

I know that I get frustrated when I'm reading a story and the next chapter doesn't come out for a few weeks or even a month, but I understand that the author has a life outside of writing and certainly outside of fanfiction.

Now, while I'm being completely honest, Twilight has lost some of its charm to me. Maybe it's the multitudes of crazy fans causing our actors to be hit by cabs…call me crazy, but I don't want to be associated with that crowd.

Does this mean I've lost interest with my own story? No. I love all of the positive feedback I've gotten, and I like to think my story is one-of-a-kind. I also have a long list of favorite stories and author's who have brilliantly molded their own world of Twilight.

HOWEVER, as I said before, like any other writer, I have a life outside of this. And right now, that life is not going so well. No, it doesn't have anything to do with where I'm going to school this time or where I'm going to live.

My mom was diagnosed with Mitral Valve Regurgitation. She has a leaky heart and the only way to fix it without causing damage to her heart muscles and eventually leading to heart failure is to have open heart surgery. This has put an immense amount of stress and pressure on my family to prepare for her procedure. My share of the load means I'm taking over her job at my family's business. So that's even less free time to write.

It would take a lot of the guilt off my back to know that you guys don't think I'm deserting you. That's as far from the truth as you can get. What I ask is for your continued support and to also understand when my chapters don't come out as fast. I'm trying, I really am, but sometimes this story (along with my other original stuff) gets pushed aside. I'm truly sorry for making you wait.

The only other thing I can ask of you is to send positive thoughts (karma, luck, whatever you may call it) my family's way. I know with you guys sending the positive energy (along with the talented hand of the surgeon), my mom will be fine.

Thank you so much for reading this. I hope you understand and I hope to be giving you the next chapter soon!

What I can tell you of the next installment…Becca finds out there is more to Adam than meets the eye and many question will be answered!

Love you all!

Aspiring Empath


	15. Chapter 13

**SHORT A/N** (Longer one at the bottom)**:** For the record, I'm not dead. I'm sure you're relieved.

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to the great Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter 13: Q and (no) A

* * *

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror wondering just how long all the scrapes and bruises would last. A pattern of red lines—dried blood and open cuts—criss-crossed over my arms, neck, and face. I tried to run my fingers through my long hair but only managed to get them stuck. Taking my time, I gently pulled leaves and twigs from my snarled mane and dumped the mess in the trash. Was I stalling? Most definitely. I cringed mentally as I thought about my grandpa's reaction when I returned. Shocked, furious, worried—all things that told me I was in big trouble.

Since I was already stalling, I decided it wouldn't hurt to take a shower while I was at it. He was waiting—albeit impatiently—for an explanation, and I fully intended to have a good one by the time I was done. I'd edit the truth, tell him I was trying to go to Adam's but got lost. I'd leave out the bit about being chased and almost drowning, but definitely keep the part about the wolf in case he wanted to check it out tomorrow.

After using half of my bottle of conditioner to remove the knots from my wild hair, washing and caring for each of my cuts, and finding an ace bandage to wrap my wrist with, I was ready to face Grandpa Jake's wrath—

—Except when I reached the living room, my grandpa was no where to be found. I heard his voice on the front porch and hesitantly walked out to find him. He was sitting in the old rocking chair, his head was in one hand, the phone dangling from the other. He didn't even look up as I approached him.

"I just got off the phone," his voice was pained.

"Who was it?" I asked cautiously.

"Rebecca, its Adam—"

My breath hitched in my throat.

"—he was…in an accident."

My grandpa's mouth kept moving but I couldn't hear him over the odd roaring sound in my ears. An accident? Was it serious? Dead? Alive? I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to that. Was it my fault? Did he hear that I was missing and go out to find me?

"Did you hear me? Rebecca?"

I shook my head slowly, trying to focus on what he was saying. "What?" My tongue felt thick as I tried to use it.

"I said the doctor is with him now. He's pretty banged up. Do you want me to wake you up when I get another update?"

It took me a moment to process his offer. I felt like I was in slow motion, like every action took a ridiculous amount of energy to perform. "No...I'm not going to sleep, Grandpa. I mean, I don't think I could…considering." He nodded sympathetically and placed a weathered hand on my shoulder. I felt tears stinging my eyes as I folded into his hug, hoping and praying this terrible night would just end.

I settled on the couch, my eyes glazing over as I stared at the blank screen of the TV. My grandpa was bustling around in the kitchen, and when he came back he was carrying a thick blanket and a cup of what I could only guess was hot chocolate, my grandma's recipe.

He handed it to me and wearily stroked my hair. I sipped the drink, silently reveling in the rich taste, a taste that took me back to my early childhood. Grandma Bella had been an expert in the kitchen—no recipe had been too daunting for her. Winters in her house consisted of fresh batches of cookies daily, hearty soups and roasts, and of course, hot chocolate. No one could resist her creations. Opening my eyes, I caught a glimpse of my grandpa's bittersweet smile. He was no doubt thinking about her as well.

I let myself relax into the worn couch as I savored the hot drink, letting it warm me from the inside as it washed away all of the cold that the hot shower had left behind. My eyelids began to feel heavy, and I struggled to keep them open. I wouldn't fall asleep, I'd promised. I owed it to Adam to stay awake, to be there as soon as we heard any news. But, in my sleep deprived state, exhaustion won and I let my eyes close.

It was dark but I could tell there was someone with me, watching me. "Hello?" I called, moving my hands out in front of me to help as I moved forward. I heard a slight shuffle ahead, almost as if someone had moved away from me—or was it closer? "Hello?" I called out again, holding my breath to hear something. Silence. "Is there someone here?"

The sound was closer this time, almost in front of me. "Grandpa?" Nothing. "Adam?"

My outstretched hand finally hit something—something furry and breathing. I recoiled, suddenly frozen with terror. Then it hit me—my wolf. I tentatively held out my hand again. Just as my fingertips grazed soft fur, it was as if a light was turned on, like the sun had suddenly risen and I could see. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust. Hearing a soft growl, I looked up, opened my mouth and screamed—

"Rebecca! Rebecca, wake up!"

My head jerked from the pillow and I looked around, panicked and confused. My grandpa was sitting next to me, slowly rubbing circles on my back. A nightmare. That's all it was. Even so, I shuddered at the thought of what I saw. I sat up slowly, letting the blanket that had been draped over me fall to the ground. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck, and my heart was still pounding.

"Are you okay?"

Looking into my grandpa's worried eyes, I tried my best to smile. "Yeah. It was just a nightmare, right? I can't even remember what it was about."

His frown deepened. "Rebecca, what happened tonight?"

I sighed, knowing that this moment was inevitable. I just hoped he would accept my half-truths and leave it at that.

"Remember the path behind the house?" I started. I picked up the blanket and focused my attention on the loose threads, picking at them one by one. "The one that leads to the Clearwater's?" I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. I took a breath and plunged into the story.

"...And then, when I was as lost as I thought I could be, this massive wolf jumps out and—"

"Wait," my grandpa interrupted for the first time. "Did you say wolves?" I looked up and saw his worried expression.

"It's okay, Grandpa. It didn't hurt me. I know it sounds crazy but it actually helped me." I searched his eyes for approval. He still seemed disconcerted, but he waved his hand for me to continue.

"The wolf started growling and disappeared into the woods. There were these awful sounds," I shuddered at the memory. "And when I found him—the wolf," I clarified, "he was hurt pretty badly. I tried to do as much as I could for him, but then the other wolves showed up. One of them led me home," I glanced at my grandpa to see if he thought I was making all of it up. His eyes were guarded and his mouth was set in a firm line. I swallowed hard, hoping he wasn't too angry with me. "And here I am," I finished weakly.

Grandpa opened his mouth to say something but the shrill ring of the telephone interrupted him. We both froze a moment. I could feel my heart pounding with trepidation as he got up and answered.

"Yes...Okay...Right. She'll be over soon." He paused, listening to whatever was being said on the other line. Brow furrowed, he glanced once at me before turning around. I couldn't hear what was being said, and it was obvious that was what he'd intended. He finally hung up and rubbed his eyes before looking at me. "Adam is okay. He's hurt...but he'll be okay."

I let out a shaky breath I wasn't aware I was holding. My eyes flooded with tears and I shut them tightly to avoid crying. I couldn't describe the sense of relief I felt at those words. If it had been more serious, if I had been the one to cause it, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

"He's up now," my grandpa continued, "And asking for you."

I shook away my despairing thoughts and rushed to get my coat.

"Wait a second."

I stopped, impatiently waiting for what he had to say next. "Rebecca, Adam is going to be fine. But you've had a rough night. I want you to at least eat some breakfast before we go over there."

I glanced out the window and was shocked that the sky was already pink with the early rays of sun. I considered arguing, but knew he was right—as always. I felt shaky and weak, and I knew it wasn't just because I was worried for Adam. I let him lead me to the table and ate whatever he set in front of me, never really tasting it but knowing it would make him happy.

I tried to focus on visiting Adam but instead my nightmare kept plaguing my thoughts. Eyes glowing red, fangs dripping with saliva, and claws that could shred through skin and even bone—some hybrid beast straight from a horror movie towering above me. I wasn't hungry anymore. The dream had been more realistic than any other I'd ever had, and it still had me feeling a little shaken. I just had to keep telling myself that there was no such thing as werewolves.

* * *

Adam's mom was waiting for us when we got to the Clearwater's house. I was barely out of the car before she gathered me up in her arms and squeezed me tight in a motherly hug. It had been years since I'd seen her last, but time had barely touched her. She was beautiful with her smooth skin and long, dark brown hair that made me want to hide mine in shame. Her eyes always seemed to smile when she was happy and even when she was mad, she could never pull off an angry face.

"Becca," she said, smoothing my hair, "it's good to see you." She wasn't smiling now, but I could tell she was relieved that I was there.

"It's good to see you, too, Kara. Is he—?"

"Adam's inside. Some of the boys came over to visit. Of course, Dan hasn't left his side since they brought him in. That boy carries too much responsibility."

"Dan brought him in?" I searched my memory. Was it really only yesterday that Adam was avoiding Dan and his group?

"He and a couple of the boys did. I about had a heart attack when they broke through the front door. Of course, they fixed it earlier this morning." She swung the door on its hinges a few times to demonstrate.

"Can I?" I asked, pointing inside the house.

"Oh, of course! He's been asking for you since he woke up. I'm glad Dan stayed, if only to keep him occupied. I'm sure he would have been out of bed and at Jake's before we could stop him."

She ushered me in, and I walked down the hallway to the last door on the right. It had been his room for as long as I could remember. We would spend rainy days sitting on his floor, setting up battalions of army men and waging war on each other for hours until I complained. Then he'd grudgingly allow me to replace the army men with dolls and would play my way for a while, until one by one the dolls would start losing limbs in what he called "casualties of war." That was how Adam and I worked. Give and take, push and pull. Never was our friendship out-of-sync.

His door was slightly ajar and as I approached, I felt a ball of nerves growing in the pit of my stomach. What would he look like? Was he in pain? I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself.

"Becca?" I heard Adam call from inside the room. How he knew I was standing outside his door, I had no idea. I pushed the door open to reveal a group of seemingly carefree guys lounging around. Connor was idly flipping through a Sports Illustrated while Chris—who I hadn't seen since his grandfather, Jared, had died—and Evan were shouting expletives at the TV, obviously wrapped up in the epic battle they were having via video game. Dan regaled a laughing Henry with the time he mistook the ladies' room for the men's and ended up walking out with two phone numbers. Sitting on the middle of the bed was Adam, a small smile gracing his mouth. His eyes found mine and didn't let them go.

He _looked_ fine. If I had to be honest with myself, I'd say he looked better than fine—and not just health-wise. I could see he was scrutinizing my appearance as well, and knowing I looked like hell compared to him, I lowered my eyes in guilt. His gaze was like fire—I could _feel_ it on me, burning everywhere it touched. Color crept up my neck.

Someone cleared their throat, obviously trying to get our attention. I looked up and was surprised to see the room had cleared out. Dan stood up and walked towards the door, shooting a pointed look at Adam. When he was gone, I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. I approached the bed slowly and carefully sat on my knees in front of him. I didn't want to hurt him any more than I already had. Adam opened his arms, but I ignored them, not daring to look him in the eye. Regardless, I could see his hurt expression, and it was almost enough to make me fall into his arms and never leave again, if only to make him happy. I inhaled deeply and let go, worries and apologies spilling from my lips.

"Are you okay? I was so worried about you. What happened? Was it my fault? I'm so sorry. If it was my fault, I don't know how I can live with myself. Are you in pain? You look okay. Grandpa said it was pretty bad, but maybe he was just being overdramatic. Do you need me to get you anything? I could—"

"Becca," Adam breathed, placing one long finger up to my still moving lips. For a long moment, he just sat staring at me, taking in every scratch and bruise visible. His face was a myriad of emotions. Anger, frustration, sympathy, hurt (or was that guilt?), I couldn't keep up.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing though his voice remained tender.

"But what about you—" he took the finger that was still against my mouth and gently pinched my lips together.

"What. Happened. To you?" he repeated slowly, releasing my lips and gently tracing the long scrape by my eye.

"It's nothing really," I said, resisting the urge to close my eyes and lean into his hand. "You know I'm clumsy."

He rolled his eyes. "The truth, Becca. Please."

I took in a deep breath, preparing myself. I may have gotten away with the half-truths I gave to Grandpa, but Adam was far more in-tune with me. "I tried to get to your house on that path we used to take as kids, remember the one?" He nodded. "But I got lost. Really lost. It was so dark out. I couldn't see, and I tripped and hurt my wrist." I lifted up my bandaged arm as proof. He gently took it in his hands, the unnatural warmth gradually soothing the dull ache.

"And then?"

"And then I heard something. I don't know," I sighed, frustrated that the night's events were already fuzzy and mixed together. "I think I was just freaked out, but I ran and I almost drowned. But there was this wolf..." I looked up at Adam's stoic expression. I was confident that he would believe me. Even still, I added, "Who knows, it might have been a dream."

He shook his head and played with a strand of my hair. "No, I want to hear. Go on."

His stare was tender and affectionate. I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. "This wolf...it was _huge_. More like a bear, really. And, I know this sounds crazy, but he was _smart_. It was like he understood me. It was almost as if he was there to protect me. I can't explain it," I said, knowing my story sounded far-fetched, even to my own ears. "But then something happened, and the wolf ran off. I think there was something out there, Adam." He stiffened and I looked up at him. "This wolf saved me from whatever it was." Worry began to creep back into my mind as I pictured the injured animal broken on the ground.

"I'm sure he's fine, Becca," Adam said knowingly, wrapping an arm around me. "You did everything you could for him."

"Yeah, I—wait. How do you know?" I asked, twisting to look him in the eye.

"You're grandpa told me," he answered nonchalantly. He broke eye-contact after a moment and let his gaze settle on the doorway behind me.

I narrowed my eyes. "You are lying, Adam Harold Clearwater. Now tell me the truth."

"What makes you think I'm lying?" he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

"You did that eye-shifty thing!" I yelled, gesturing with my hands. "I've known you my whole life, and you didn't think I would know when you're lying?"

"You were gone a long time. Who knows how well you know me."

_Ouch_. He was right, of course, but it didn't hurt any less. Instead of making me cry though, it only made me angrier. "Right. I left. Let's blame it all on me. But that still doesn't change the fact that you're lying! Now tell me the truth!"

"I..._can't_." His eyes were dark as he literally shook with anger.

"Can't? Don't you mean _won't_?"

"Becca, I can't tell you..._things_. I want to. God, do I want to. But I _can't_."

"What is it with you?" I seethed. "You ignore me, won't look at me, won't...oh, I mean _can't_ tell me things. I think I deserve an answer. An honest one." I got off the bed and started walking towards his door. "And until you can give me one..." I stopped and decided to say what had been on my mind since I'd arrived. "I don't know why I'm even here!"

"What do you mean?"

I whirled around to face him. "Why did I come here when you were obviously better off with your new friends? Friends you couldn't even stand twenty-four hours ago! Why were you all acting like brothers when yesterday you were happy running away from them? Why was I worrying about you when you are obviously fine?" He sat silently, staring at me. "Fine. Don't answer." I turned to leave.

"Come to the bonfire this weekend." He blurted, his voice sounded desperate.

"_What?_"

"Come to the bonfire we're having this weekend. I might be able to give you some answers then. I can't promise anything, but I'd really like you to come."

I thought about it for a moment. There was a higher chance of me getting answers if I went. I could even interrogate Evan if I got desperate. "I'll think about it," I finally answered. He looked relieved.

"I _am_ sorry about...you know," he gestured to the space between us.

Sighing, I walked forward. I stood on my tip toes to place a small kiss on his warm cheek and said, "I know."

* * *

A/N: Honestly, looking back at the reviews I've gotten since I announced I was taking a little break due to my mom, it makes me want to cry. You are all so amazing and I really can't thank you enough for all of the encouraging words and support. I think it's pretty safe to say I have some of the most **amazing** readers in this fandom!

So now to the news you are all probably waiting to hear (other than whether or not Edward comes back soon). My mom is doing great! After the surgery, it was touch-and-go. One day she'd look great, the next it seemed to take everything out of her just to greet me and my dad. But believe it or not, it only been four months and she is back, better than ever! She gets tired easily but to compare her today to the person she was right after the surgery, it's like looking at two completely different people. I know that it was because of all of the positive energy you guys were giving her, right?

On the off chance that some of you are still reading this (don't worry, I don't blame those that aren't), I'm sorry for the long wait. Some of you may remember that I was in the process of transferring schools over the summer and although most of the drama the admissions office decided to throw my way is over, this school is much harder than my first one. I have so much homework and only so much time to write. Plus there's this _**boy**_...you know..."the glory of first love, and all that." If you could see me right now, I grinning like an idiot just thinking about him! I feel bad because I feel like some of you think I'm abandoning this story, but I'm really trying!

One last thing and then I swear I'm done! **NEW MOON COMES OUT THIS WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** Enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think of it!!!!!

I don't normally do this, but I want to thank each and every one of you individually. I appreciate all of you so much!

**Thanks to:**

Twilight fangirl13

Snapyerfingers

GottaLoveFanfiction

rebekah

Treadora

sintRizzie

eeddwwaarrddiloveya (Because I don't want the world to explode)

Claudia (Because you and my mom are both still alive and kicking!)

clau8

eleventhavenuenorth

Sap96 (Because you read my story for 2 hours straight. And you're in luck, I do have original fiction ideas!)

Pinksummer (Because you gave my pack story a chance!)

Bananavamp

werepire-chick

prettyinpinknh12 (Because you know the REAL Becca Black!)

French Shark (Because my story entertained you during your road trip)

Noble Korhedron (Because you graded me…which has never happened before so it's strangely exciting…is that weird?)

Bloody Mononoke

Giova (Because you live in Italy)

twilight girl (Because you gave me suggestions!)

SkinnyLove (Because you love Adam! (So do I!))

xeoa (Because your review, however boring you thought it was, was actually very insightful and much appreciated!)

WhiteLotus95

jenmerc

Vampire Crusader

Robinhoodfan13

Anna562

Randomness is Bliss (Because Docter Who is the shit!)

imaginingInspiration

REESAALICE3

MJAlikat

Annabelle.x

inthemiddleoflife

jill

LivesInDreams (I hope your mom is doing well)

Stone-Jasper

SunnyZim

sbeller

anitarakel

stupidlamb6425

PearlAngel16

MistariaPotter

anon

kmfroggi

Kaitlyn HOuston

berrycute105

vampirechic666 (I did tell my mom and she was amazed that people around the world were praying for her!)

rmw8855

bluuejeans

RozzLuvzEmmett


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